Dark Forest
by American HOT Fender
Summary: Helga never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later. And leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit to boot. The secrets are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!
1. I'm good, I'm good, I'm great

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Full Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Yeah, I know, I _said_ I wouldn't work on anything _but_ "What are the odds?" But I _literally_ , had a dream that inspired this story and my mind has just gone _wild_ working out a plot. I _totally_ have ADD. So...we'll see how it goes. **WATO is _still_ my priority** so, _expect_ slowish updates on this just depending on my time, cause WATO is coming first.

 **Housekeeping:** This story has some language and this first chapter does have a big ole fat adult situation in it. Ye have been warned!

 **Edit:** 7/27/17. Didn't realize that the beginning part of my chapter got deleted when I was correcting a few typos. Anyway, I pasted it back in, so...for those that may have re-read and see this whole new section, that's what happened. It was always suppose to be there. Thanks!

* * *

 **I'm good, I'm good, I'm great.  
**

 **I know it's been awhile.**

How well does anybody really know anyone else? Really, and truly know another person's soul, their energy, and what makes them tick? Human beings, as a whole, tend to believe that when it comes to social behaviors, everything has been figured out, and when something malfunctions, we scramble to find the red flag that should have given away _everything._ We take that flag, we pick it apart with a fine tooth comb, finding the triggers, the chips in character, that helped mold such atrocious behavior, and then we say 'next time.'

Fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice, shame on you.

Perhaps it's the _cleverest_ of coping mechanisms. A built in circuit breaker that trips to prevent social chaos fueled by paranoia and distrust. After all, trust is the glue of society. Monsters _can't_ hide. Monsters are _monsters_. Vile, black eyed creatures that find it _impossible_ to conceal themselves amongst the properly functioning ones in society, if you're really paying attention.

'You should have _seen_ the signs,' They'd say.

'How could you not have _known_ what he was doing?' They'd say

It's what made everybody sleep well at night, intently believing that, _they_ would spot a devil, _they_ would see the signs of a devil in training.

But it was all a lie. A sweet, comforting lie as old as time.

The nasty truth was: Monsters hid, and they hid _well._

They could be your neighbors, your co-workers...

"Helga..."

The blonde young woman snapped away from the vortex of thoughts that she had been so abruptly sucked into, realizing that she still had the worn, corded phone receiver pressed to her ear. Her clouded blue, and grimly bloodshot eyes shifted up from the nicked, pale grey counter top she'd been aimlessly staring at, back to the bullet proof plexiglass, back to a creased orange jump suit being worn by...her whole _life_. Her mouth was so dry, too dry to audibly form any sort of reply to him right a way, because she was desperately trying to swallow down the sickness infested inside of her.

Monsters were amongst us. Monsters were handsome. Monsters were successful. Monsters had _gorgeous_ eyes.

Monsters had _families..._

...Families that had no other _purpose_ to them, but to provide the _perfect_ camouflage.

As if on cue, she felt a little kick from her unborn child, innocently reminding the tears that were piling up behind her swollen lids of the reason why they were there. It was finally enough to spur them to tumbling over her rims and spilling onto her cheeks in blotted streaks of mascara and heart brokenness. "I sat on that back patio every morning..." She began in a raspy voice, her broken soul being drowned with an unimaginable and unbridled level of disgust she'd never thought possible, having to call upon every fiber of her collective to stop from splintering apart right there, "And they were there the entire _time_."

His face was ghostly pale with hollowed out eyes that for the first time ever, she couldn't bring herself to look directly in as he whispered, "...you have to believe me. I didn't _do_ this."

* * *

 **Six Years Before**

It was 11:50am, and if 21 year old Helga Pataki didn't leave her apartment right then, she was going to be _very_ late to her lunch date with Phoebe. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but there she was, blinking, foggy eyed at her phone, swearing she had only closed her eyes for like a _second_ after coming home from a morning class. She bolted out of bed, plucking her clothes up and throwing them on before collecting her book bag. Her boy was nowhere to be found and she made the assumption that he'd headed out to a class already. _So nice of him to wake her before he left_ , she thought as she was mentally rolling her eyes at him while locking the door behind her and then galloping down three flights of stairs because it was _way_ faster than waiting for the ancient elevator to hustle its elderly heap up the shaft and back down.

She then walked the half mile across campus to everybody's favorite in-between class sandwich dive. Phoebe, predictably, had already secured them a table, having most probably arrived 10 minutes ahead of schedule and looked to be doing some in-between class studying as she waited for her friend to show up.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Helga announced and apologized as she tossed her book bag into the booth and then slid in herself, "I kind of...fell asleep after class."

"No worries!" Phoebe chirped, "I was just getting a head start on some biology reading anyway," She relayed as she closed the book and slid it back into her light blue book bag beside her. "I ordered you a soda already."

"Thanks."

Phoebe took a sip of her water, "So, how has life been? I feel like I haven't heard from you in quite awhile."

Her friend snorted, "Oh, well you know, classes and this ass kicking apprenticeship of mine."

"Are you really that busy with it? I thought it was suppose to be a few hours a week kind of thing?"

"Yeah, I thought so too, but dude has me out every day with him inspecting houses." Phoebe gave her a 'wow' look and Helga shrugged and ran her finger around the rim of her glass. While she _was_ in college, getting a degree was simply a formality, a necessary first hurtle to getting to her career of choice. Home inspecting. And while, it may have seemed out of character for her to pick such career, her attention to detail, often seen in her straight 'A's' in English and literature, had made it a perfect choice for her. To her, it was a real life game of hide and seek, a game to see if she could outsmart devious builders and sellers. Besides, she was Helga Pataki, she was going to kick ass in a male dominated field, and they were going to learn to like it. "It is what it is though, the more hours I have by graduation the better. He knows that."

"That's true," Phoebe agreed.

"So what about you? How's your mom, by the way?"

Phoebe lightly chuckled, "Just studying, non-stop and she's fine. She gets her walking boot off next week."

"That's good."

"Indeed. She said she's never letting my dad talk her into white water rafting _again._ "

"Eh, can't say I blame her."

Before they could further their conversation, their waiter came by, asking if they were ready to order, which they were, not even needing to examine the menu, because they both ordered the same things every time they at there. It wasn't but about 15 minutes more before he had returned with each of their sandwiches and sides.

Helga was about mid-bite on her turkey club when her phone started buzzing on the table, seeing the name, and hating the loud ruckus it was causing, she quickly snatched it up and answered it, "Hey. Out to lunch with Phoebe. I guess, maybe why? No, it's cool. Alright...talk to you later. Bye...love you too," She hung up and sat the phone back down.

Phoebe was intently watching the whole one sided exchange, the entire time chewing a mouth full of pasta salad she had just scooped with her fork, her eyes slightly thinning as she watched her friend set her phone back on the table top and continue chowing down on her sandwich. "How's Jeremy?"

"He's good."

"I'm going to be honest. I almost thought that was your dad at first."

Helga snorted, "Wow, thanks. I get that we're not super sickening lovey-dovey like _somebody_ I know, but come on."

Phoebe cocked an eyebrow, a small smile tugging the side of her mouth, "What are you saying?"

"That you and Geraldo are _disgusting_ to listen to," Her friend teased. "Like I want to puke sometimes."

The dark headed girl blushed at her blatant call out, "I really don't think it's _that_ bad."

"No, of course you wouldn't," Helga chuckled and took another bite of her sandwich. "You're the one doing it."

Phoebe sighed, deciding she might pry a little more seeing as she really hadn't see her friend in a little while, "So, how _are_ you and Jeremy then? Things still feeling a little...stale since last time we got together?"

The blonde halted mid-chew and perked her left eyebrow at her friend and then swallowed, "Eh, I mean...you know how it is when you both get busy."

"Well, not really."

Helga sat her sandwich down and folded her arms on the table, "Right, well...I guess neither one of us has ever been the mega lovey-dovey type. I don't know."

"I'm just asking. But as long as you're happy..." Phoebe gave her a smile and took another bite of her own sandwich, waiting, knowing that _that_ casual remark would open her up a bit. Last time they had had 'girl talk', over a month ago, Helga had admitted that she had _thought_ about taking a break from Jeremy. She was rather curious about what had gone on with that, seeing as nothing on any of their social media had suggested any change.

"Alright, yeah...things still _could_ be better, but nothing's really _wrong_ is the thing." The raven haired petite girl looked back up at her friend, and Helga shrugged at her, "You know they say there is a difference between loving someone and _being_ in love with someone?" Phoebe nodded, "There are days where I feel like I _really, really_ love the guy, but don't feel like I'm _in_ love with him."

"So, do you think you're just too comfortable, or just afraid of being by yourself?" Eh, it was pretty blunt, even for Phoebe.

"What I think is that five years has made me comfortably bored, but not unhappy. Sure, he can be a little distant at times which drives me _nuts_ , but otherwise, we jive pretty well I think," Helga concluded and took bite out of the side of her sandwich. "I just wish he were a tad bit more spontaneous like me though."

"Lord. Hillwood couldn't handle that."

Helga rolled her eyes and smirked, "But it would be so empty without me," She joked.

Phoebe took a gulp of water and swallowed, "Well, and I'm only mentioning it because I _have_ to go to it, even though I really don't want to. Anyway, Gerald's fraternity is throwing a party tonight on Greek Street. You two should come."

"Frat kegger huh?" The blonde nodded, "Yeah, I'll swing by. If only just to keep you company for awhile."

* * *

Helga skipped through her apartment door an hour later, eyes immediately falling onto Jeremy, laying on the couch in some lounge clothes with the remote perched on his chest with his hand on top of it. He rolled his dark head back to see her, giving her a quick flash of a smile, tooth pick sticking out of his side cheek, and a, "Hey," as she walked over to him.

She dropped her book bag to the floor and sat down on the edge of the couch at his waist, "How are you?" She asked, leaning forward, plucking the God forsaken mini wooden plank out of his mouth and tossing to the coffee table before leaning in and giving him a kiss, which he returned while half smiling. She couldn't _stand_ his toothpick obsession, but in high school it had been either move him over to this oral crutch or continue to deal with him smoking.

She'd chosen the toothpick, and she'd been dealing with his obsession ever since.

"I'm alright. I've got a _ridiculous_ headache right now though," He rubbed his temple with two fingers.

Helga grimaced, "Sorry. Did you take something?"

"Yeah, a little while ago."

"So, you think you maybe want to go to a party tonight?"

Jeremy ran a hand over the top of his head, fingers through his black wavy hair, watching her turn and glance briefly at what he was watching before turning back to him with a small smirk and a quirked left brow, "Whose?" He finally procured.

"Gerald's fraternity. Phoebe wants me to come to come and hang out."

He smiled up at her, "Yeah, sure. I don't have to work tonight."

"Alright. I've got to go meet Dave to do a few inspections but, I'll probably be done by 5:30," She gave him a single pat on the chest and stood up, "Take a nap," She smiled at him before walking off to change her clothes.

* * *

It was closer to 6:15pm by the time Helga had wrapped up her apprenticeship/part time job and got back home. To her surprise, Jeremy was _still_ laying on their couch, only this time his arm draped over his eyes.

"Jay?" She called, but it sounded more like a question.

"Hmm?" He replied and pulled his arm away from his face, blinking to see her standing next to the couch.

"You alright?"

He cleared his throat, "I feel like crap."

Helga frowned, "Your head still?"

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the couch, "All over. I think I'm getting a cold or something," He rubbed his face. "I don't feel like going to that party at all tonight."

Helga nodded, "Alright. That's fine. I'll text Pheebs and tell her were staying home."

Jeremy looked up at her and shook his head, "No, you go still."

She chuckled, and ran her hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, "I'm not going to leave you here, looking like you're about to keel over. What kind of girlfriend would I be?"

"I'm literally going to go get in bed and stay there the rest of the night. Go blow off some steam with Phoebe. I know you want to," He told her, but only catching one of her weary looks, "I really don't mind if you go out and leave me here...sick and everything," He tried to convince her, offering up a half smile and reaching out to grab her hand and give it a squeeze.

* * *

Jeremy's convincing had worked, and if he was okay with staying home by himself, she was okay going out by herself too. They had never been one of those couples that felt the need to do every thing, every waking moment together, and she, for the most part, liked that, because she herself was a very independent person, but on the few occasions when when she did go out, like out _out_ , without him, she felt a little strange. Especially when she saw couples like Gerald and Phoebe, who never ever went out without one another. Hell they practically didn't breathe without one another.

It made her wonder, if only a bit.

Helga parked her car quite a few houses down from the one she'd be going to, thankful that she wasn't going to have to walk further than that, her heels weren't the most comfortable. This apparently was going to be a pretty popular party. She gave herself the once over in the visor mirror, touched up her mascara, hair was looking awesome, make-up _now_ was on point and her little party dress was _killing_ it.

The house was very much alive when she walked up the sidewalk, people hanging out on the porch with the red solo cups, muted music seeping out from the cracks on the door and windows. It was much more jumping inside, people everywhere, kegs set, liquor bar set. In the midst of inspecting everything, her eyes were peeled for Phoebe, or Gerald, or somebody she knew.

That was what she hated the most about going to these things. She knew like two people, and would maybe run into one person she took a class with.

"Helga!" She heard her name, looking off to the left in time to see her friend sliding off of the kitchen counter she'd been sitting on while talking to some other girls. Helga smiled and walked her way. "Where's Jeremy at?"

"He's sick. I think he's probably got a cold or something."

Phoebe frowned, "Oh no. I hope I didn't guilt you into coming this morning."

Helga nonchalantly waved her off, "Nah, he'll be fine. He practically ushered me out the door. So, this place has gotten bumping early huh?"

"Just a little. We can go out back. Not as loud," Phoebe elbowed her friend and turned to head out the back of the house into the backyard where there were a few beer pong tables sat up, and people gathered around them. They had to walk around the Jacuzzi that a few girls had already gotten into.

Over in the corner of the yard, where Phoebe was leading them, she saw Gerald standing with a few other guys, whom she was sure were a few of his frat brothers, but one of them caught her eyes, and only because she knew him the minute she saw him. Indeed it had been a few years since she'd last laid eyes on him, but she would _always_ recognize him.

Arnold _Freakin'_ Shortman.

And she wasn't even going to lie. He was still looking really good.

* * *

After enough of Gerald's begging, he'd some how managed to convince him to come to one of those blasted frat parties they seemed to have left and right. He really shouldn't have even been there, because he had an ass of studying he really needed to be doing, but there he was, and his friend was definitely going to be on the hook for a good favor or two.

He'd come with his girlfriend, Taylor, expecting to stay a couple hours, maximum, before heading out. After all, these things weren't really his jam, even if he didn't have volumes of course work that he really needed to be doing.

One couldn't BS their way through medical school, that was for certain.

Needless to say, he was more than quite surprised to look up and see Helga Pataki sauntering his way along side Phoebe. It had been awhile, but he figured she was one of those people that he'd always recognize. And he did.

And to his amazement, she was looking even more gorgeous that he remembered. Gorgeous enough that he had to deliberately look away or he would have just kept staring like a moron.

"Well, the pong champion has graced us with her presence tonight, I see," Gerald announced, to the chuckles of his frat brothers as his girlfriend and Helga walked up.

"Can it, Geraldo. Your jealousy isn't flattering," Helga snapped back with a smirk before shifting her gaze to the proverbial elephant in the group, "Wow, Football head, it's been a hot minute."

Arnold snickered, pleased that she recognized him too and tipping his red solo cup at her, "And I see nothing has changed, _Helga._ "

"Of course not. What have you been doing with yourself since Highschool?"

Gerald snorted, "This guy?" He thumbed to his best friend, "You're looking at the future _Doctor_ Shortman."

"Wow," Helga said, actually kind of impressed by that, "Aiming high huh?"

Arnold smirked, "I like the challenge."

"So, not to leave you all stranded here, but I've got to go make sure everything inside is rip roaring. We're having a mini rave later. Babe you want to come with?" He held his hand out, intending for phoebe to take it and go with him.

She nodded and half shrugged, giving Helga a slightly apologetic look for 'ditching' her and said, "Sure," Took his hand and they walked back towards the house.

Helga and Arnold quickly found themselves completely abandoned when Gerald's two frat brothers walked off to talk to some other people they actually knew. "Well, I am going to go grab a beer out of that keg across the yard," She announced pointing past him.

"I actually need a refill myself," Arnold chimed in, shaking his empty cup in his hand. Helga smirked as she walked past him and towards the keg that had been set up on a fold out table with cups stacked beside it.

"So, _doctor_ Arnold huh?" She asked as they strolled.

He grinned, a little bashful, "Yeah. Specifically a cardiologist."

"That's pretty cool, actually."

"So what have _you_ been up to in the last few years. Are you and Jeremy still together?" He started asking his own questions as they arrived at the table.

Helga turned back to him with a half smirk, "I am actually becoming a residential and commercial inspector, and yes, we are still together," She replied, grabbing one of the cups from the stack, filling it up.

Arnold nodded, "Cool. I'm actually here with my girlfriend, Taylor," He said. For some reason he felt the the need to tell her that, like she cared, and even went as far as pointing over to where said girlfriend stood, talking with a bunch of other girls near the Jacuzzi.

Helga glanced at where he was pointing and took a sip of her newly poured beer, "She's pretty. How long have you two been an item?"

"Few months," He replied, refilling his cup after her.

"I take it you don't come to these things as often as her?"

Arnold starting smirking again, "Why?"

Helga only chortled, and shook her head, "Chill. Just an observation. You latched on to the only other person you know in this place," She pointed out, "Unlike your girlfriend, who seems to know _lots_ of people here."

He smiled at her, bringing his cup to his lips and taking a gulp, "She's in a sorority and a lot of these girls are her sisters. But, you're right. I don't come to these things often. I'm not really a party person."

"I hear you. Neither am I."

Arnold laughed and gave her an incredulous look, "You're not? Huh...if I recall, it wasn't but just a few minutes ago you were being referred to as...what was it? The _pong_ champion?"

Helga perched a hand on her hip and thinned her blue eyes at him with a snarky little smirk playing at her lips, "He's being facetious. I absolutely _suck_ at it. I'm only here because of Phoebe."

He laughed, "And the free beer too, right?"

"And the free beer," She agreed, holding up her cup in a 'cheers' fashion.

"Do you care to start a game?" He thumbed over to one of the free tables.

Helga quirked her left brow, "I'm gathering now that I've admitted my terribleness at it you're going to try to run the tables on me huh?"

The young man laughed and gave her a 'no way' expression, "You're implying that I myself are good at it, which I never said."

"Said every pool shark from the bad side of town," She countered, grinning smartly.

He laughed, " _Pong_ shark, I am not. Do you want to play or not?"

Helga tossed her free hand in the air and then let it drop, "Yeah why not. It'll keep me from having to go mingle with the rest of these people."

The pair walked over to the table and Arnold picked up the two stacks of cups and began setting them out, "I'm not going to fill these up much, I've got to drive home tonight. Is that cool?" He asked.

Helga nodded, "Perfect. I've got to drive too."

He filled two arms worth of cups with about a inch worth of beer in each and brought them back to the table in two trips. They staged them up and dropped the six ping pong balls in the holder cups fill with water.

"Ladies first."

"Look at _you_ ," Helga teased him, reaching and grabbing a single ball, "Such a gentleman."

He grinned, "Like I can help it," She stood back, tossed the ball and...missed. "Ohh...better luck next time right?"

"I'm not holding my breath." Arnold grabbed a ball and cocked his arms back, shot and missed too, "But, I'm suddenly feeling much more optimistic about my chances here now."

"I'm glad I can inspire such confidence." She shot, and again missed, and he mimicked her actions like a reflection, "So where _is_ your guy at tonight?"

"Laying in bed, sick."

He chuckled, "And you're here? You are _extremely_ doting," He teased her as she cocked her arm back and let a ball soar, right into one of his cups. A wide smile stretched across her face while she did the 'yes' arm pump.

She then goaded him with, "Drink up, buttercup." Arnold was grinning from ear to ear as he grabbed the up and downed the little bit of beer in it, "And if you must know, because for some reason I feel the need to defend my reputation to you, he shooed me out the door, more than likely so he could lay up in bed and watch those God awful crime shows all night."

Arnold laughed, tossing a ball, almost getting one it but it ricocheting off the rim and flying into the grass, "Dammit. Crime shows huh?"

"Loves them. Well, he's a criminal justice major."

"What's he plan to do with that?" He asked. Helga sunk another one of her balls in his cup, "Jeez, you're running the table on me now. I'm beginning to think you are the pong shark," He jokingly accused and tossed the beer back.

"I swear. This is the best I've ever been at this," She adamantly defended, "So, anyway, he eventually wants to become a detective."

Laughing, he said, "So watching investigative discovery is just studying for him, huh?"

Helga rolled her eyes in _complete_ agreement with him, "Pretty much." He shot and _finally_ sunk a ball.

"Oh! Striker, striker. Drink up butter cup," He grinned, borrowing her words. She teasingly glared at him and knocked the cup back in a single gulp.

"So, I'm going to be honest here for a second," She began, royally missing her next shot, "Your girlfriend doesn't act like you're even here. What's up with that. You guys get into an argument before hand?" She smirked.

Arnold sighed, but he didn't appear to her bothered by what she had pointed out, "No, not at all. I'm just not enough fun for her."

Helga nodded, "So is this a classic opposites attract scenario?" She smiled, expecting him to start into how they met and how they just _loved_ everything else about one another. What she wasn't expecting was what she got:

He shook his head 'no,' missing his shot too and then casually saying, "She is only dating me because I'm a med student."

"Whoa," Her eyes widened a little bit, definitely not expecting him to just...call his girlfriend, whom she didn't even know, out like that, "That's pretty harsh." She didn't really know what else to say to that.

"It's true though," He insisted, take a sip of his regular beer and looking over at Taylor, in deep animated conversation with some of her other sorority sisters. "She thinks I don't see that. But I do. Girls like her go to college to get their M.R.S. degree," He turned back to his opponent.

Helga quirked a smile, "You make that up all by yourself?"

"I did. And it is _so_ true. The fact is, she would _much_ rather be dating one of the fun guys over there," He pointed to a few of the frat boys with the finger on the hand holding his beer, "But, she latched on to me because one day, I'm going to be doctor Shortman, cardio surgeon, and she thinks if she can stay with me that long, I'll marry her and she'll be set. The fun guys, they will end up at their Dad's insurance firm peddling home and auto policies."

"Damn. If you know that, why do you date her?" She quickly asked, "Though, I suppose it's none of my business, but I guess it _is_ since you felt the need to throw her under the bus right here," She said, a ghost of a smile hinting at the corners of her mouth.

Arnold only offered up a nonchalant shrug, "It's lonely being single."

At that, Helga couldn't help but think, that it could be lonely being in a relationship sometimes too. She cast him a smile and nodded, "Hey, if it works for you I guess."

An hour and forty-five minutes ticked by of this banter and game, then another thirty before both were kind of sick of each others pong crappiness. Arnold's girlfriend had by then changed into her bikini and hopped into the Jacuzzi with her friends and a few other guys after giving Arnold the heads up. It seemed like as good a time as ever to end that terrible game anyway, they heard a beat drop inside and realized, Gerald had probably not been kidding about them having a rave-ish thing going on in the house later on.

And it was, after all, later on at that point.

Helga had a nice little buzz going, and was keen to leave it at that. She had to drive but she also just didn't care about ever getting drunk, and could count on her hand how many times she'd ever been. It just wasn't _her thing_.

She was a happy buzzer.

"I kind of want to go check out what's going on inside," She thumbed towards the house, already starting to walk away.

"Yeah, me too, let me go touch base with Taylor first and I'll be right there,"He replied and watched her stroll away from him, that little dress hugging her in _all_ the right ways. She was just...mesmerizing to him, in a way she'd never been when they were in high school. He looked away. He needed to go see his girlfriend, if only to disrupt the thoughts he was having.

Helga was secretly glad he hadn't followed her into the house right away. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. She'd been having a really good time with him tonight. A _really_ good time. Like she really wanted to just hang out with him and him only, which weirded her out _majorly_.

And maybe it was just because she'd found him _incredibly_ easy to talk to. Which, in a way, made her inwardly chuckle because her entire childhood, when she had been crushing on him something fierce, she found it _so_ hard to talk to him, because she had always been so nervous. That night, she might as well have been talking to Phoebe.

For one thing, she didn't feel like she was having to pull conversation out of him with a proverbial pair of pliers like she sometimes had to do with Jeremy.

 _Ugh_ , she needed to stop, and stop right now. The last thing she needed to be doing was playing a childish compare game between a guy she'd _only_ been hanging out with for a few hours, and her long term boyfriend. It was ridiculous to do, and would on succeed in being inflammatory for her.

They were what they were.

Inside, there was indeed, a full blown bump and grind fest going on in the living room, complete with black lights and strobes. Helga was standing there, staring at the bodies moving and grinding on one another, deciding that she really wanted no part of that, when Arnold walked up and brushed past her, turning back with a lopsided smirk, nodding towards the crowd as if to say, 'want to come?'

She blushed, trying to seem convincing with her head shake but he grabbed her arm and dragged her out into the bee hive of people. "You still can dance right?" He asked. "I know you used to be able to."

"That's awfully stalker-ish of you," She smirked up at him, watching him begin to sway to the beat.

He rolled his eyes, "Prom. I saw you at prom."

She pulled an arm up, ran her hand through the top of her hair, resting it on the back of her head as she swayed with him, "I've still got some rhythm," She said, biting her bottom lip.

His eyebrow quirked watching her turn around, continuing to sway. He subconsciously moved his body closer, moving against her, trying to figure out what to do with his hands for the moment, because he was having to fight the urge to touch her. Flexing said hands a few times, he finally couldn't resist anymore and just reached out and glided his finger tips down her arms, watching for a reaction. She didn't throw him off negatively. Maybe she was just as into this as he was getting.

Whatever _this_ was.

All he knew was that he wanted to be around her as much as possible that night. It wasn't only because he thought she was fucking gorgeous either, his own girlfriend was a ten too, and he didn't want anything to do with her that night. No, this was something else _entirely_.

And it was enough for him to wish to get rid of Taylor right then and there.

Or at least wish that she weren't at that party.

His hands ran from Helga's arms down her body, leaning in and touching the top of her head with his nose, using the opportunity to cop a glance out the back door to make sure she were still in the Jacuzzi.

None the wiser. _Perfect._

Because he and Helga were bumping and grinding on one another like two well oiled gears in a machine. His hands were on her hips, moving forward and down her thighs, her hands coming to rest over top his much bigger ones, her slender fingers sliding in between his. Hers were so soft too.

His right hand slid down a little more, catching the edge of her dress, bending them forward just a bit to run his hand up the inside of her thigh. He heard her hiss as he pulled it away, running it back up the side of her body and letting it come to rest on her hip.

Helga had finally been somewhat snapped from the trance she'd been in with him, pulling herself away from his body, desperate to clear her head of the million thoughts crowding it's confines. Arnold stalled, felling suddenly empty by her brisk departure from his person. He stared at her as she turned around, dropping him a mixed expression that fell somewhere between extremely turned on and extremely confused.

At least they were on the same page.

She held his eyes with hers for a moment longer before bolting out of the crowd. He ran a hand through his hair, snatching one more look to check Taylor's whereabouts before making the decision to go after her.

Helga left the main area of the house and wandered off down the first hallway she saw, no destination in mind, she just desperately needed to clear her head. She shouldn't have been getting into him like that. Not at all. She was playing a dangerous game. But she couldn't stop herself. He was just so...easy to be around, and get wrapped up with.

The music was still so loud that even down the length of the hall, she didn't hear him come up behind her until last minute.

As Arnold inched closer and closer behind her, he lost all sense of rational thought, and before he even knew what he was doing, he grabbed her, pushing her into an open bathroom, slamming the door shut with his foot, pushing her until her backside collided with the vanity, both of his hands coming to her head, cupping it in his palms as he shoved his lips up against hers in a rough and needy kiss. She had ceased all reasonable thought by that point as well. She didn't have time to think, because suddenly she was kissing him back with the same fervor, just loving the taste of his mouth, and quickly finding herself not being able to get enough of it.

He tasted like...everything she wanted, everything she liked. His hands fell, coming to ride up her outer thighs underneath her thin little dress, continuing his dance floor exploration. Her fingers were curling deep into his wavy blonde hair when he broke away from her mouth to string a line of nippish kisses down her jaw line, nipping at her ear and down her neck. Her body bowing into his with such an aching want, feeling his desire pushing against the center of his jeans while one of her hands slid down and came to clutch the back of his arm. Having a hold of him better, she began rubbing herself against him.

He groaned, still so mesmerized by his sudden want for her that night that, just like her, he couldn't even think about his outside life...or the girlfriend that was wandering around somewhere at that very same party. He had one thing and one thing only on his mind. He _wanted_ her. And he wanted her right then. Nothing else mattered. His fingers folded over the top of her underwear and he quickly slid them down, his hands then coming back up to cup her ass as he lifted her onto the counter top, finishing pulling the garment from her legs and tossing it else where.

In between the devouring of one anothers mouths, her hands dropped to unbuttoning his jeans, a task that he gladly let her more nimble fingers take care of, because in the mean time, he reached into his back pocket and grabbed the condom that he _always_ carried with him. He brought the tin packet up to his mouth and tore it open with his teeth, spitting the torn top on the floor.

Her mouth was all over his neck, down the open buttons of his shirt on his collar bone, and he could hardly stand it anymore. So when she pushed the front of his boxers down and he sprang free, he wasted not a second more, quickly rolling the condom on and sinking himself deep within her, thrusting into her with the same fervor that had gotten them into that position to begin with. A very infinitesimal piece of him felt bad for just plowing into her that way, but damn she felt so good, and she seemed not to mind his abruptness.

And in fact, she didn't mind _at all._ He felt _amazing,_ and she was absolutely loving that he was more than a little rough with her. She brought her legs up and hooked them around his waist, heaving herself into him a little more than she already was, causing them both to gasp. He removed one of his hands from her waist and brought it up to the nape of her neck, feeling the silky strands of her hair glide through his fingers as he pulled her mouth into his own, his tongue colliding into hers, catching all of her little squeaks and moans so hungrily. Her mouth then slid away from his as she tilted her head back, eyes closed and moaned, "Jesus... _Arnold._ "

 _His_ name fell out of her mouth.

God _dammit_ he was so turned on by that. "Helga..." He groaned a reply back, nuzzling his mouth to her neck and hair. His movements became much more erratic, rougher as he was chasing her ever closer to a glorious release. And then, a few strokes later, she cut loose on him, "Oh, God-Fuck... _yes!_ Mmm," She cried out, clutching him tightly, feeling the euphoric crack of lightning radiate out from her core, bringing her to a shuddering mess in what was probably one of the best orgasms she'd had in awhile. Arnold followed her almost immediately. The way she pulsated around him, grabbed on to him was just too delicious for him hold back any longer. His familiar flame shot through his groin, and he came so hard he momentarily thought that he was turning inside out. A few more pumps, riding out their last bits of bliss and they both were spent. He sagged slightly up against the vanity, his legs suddenly feeling weak, but still hugging her to him, trying to keep her close. Helga had laid her head on his shoulder by that point, that mind of hers that not so long ago had been so filled with light and desire was all too quickly having its arousing fog lifted, and she realized the _enormous_ fuck up she'd just made.

In a sweeping gust of panic, she leaned back and shoved him out of her and quickly slid from the vanity top. " _Fuck!"_ She swore, running her hand through her hair, watching her giant mistake hobble backwards, appearing incredibly confused as he was attempting to rid himself of the used condom. She smoothed her dress out and reached for the door, giving the knob a quick twist, realizing it hadn't even been _locked,_ "Helga! Wait!" Arnold tried, hurriedly yanking his zipper up, but she had already torn from the bathroom, not sparing him a second glance.

She marched back through the party, out the front door and down the street, laser focused on getting to her car so she could go the hell home. When she finally took refuge in her little black bimmer, she didn't immediately drive away like one would have thought, instead, she sat there for a second, body still flushed from her hurried exit, and bathroom affair, huffing in anger and panic and...

She screamed.

She screamed, and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, white knuckling it tightly.

* * *

The drive home was not even a remember-able thing for her. Mindless. Gas, break, gas, break, turn...hopefully that light was green, rinse, wash, repeat until she finally pulled into the parking lot in front of her apartment building.

No, not hers... _theirs._

All that she could think about, as she stared at _their_ apartment building, was how she was going to go in there and crawl into bed next to her boyfriend of five years, having just spontaneously slept with another guy. _How?_ How could she do that? She couldn't!

Well, she could stay in her car all night.

No. She _couldn't_ sit in her car all night, and she really needed to go find out if they made water hot enough to vaporize the whore off of her.

And the worst part, above all else, was how fucking _satisfied_ she was by what she'd gotten from Arnold. As cheap and slutty as it had been, she was still tingling from it, and it certainly couldn't erase the rest of the night.

Them totally fucking clicking. That shit.

She locked her car, walked in and caught the elevator up, the shame practically charring a hole through her by the time she walked through their front door. It was dark, except for the TV in their bedroom, that she could hear lightly playing. She strode into the room, expecting to see him laying in bed, expecting to try to avoid his gaze if he were still awake and scurry off to the shower to scrub the other guy off of her. What she wasn't expecting was an empty bed. He wasn't in the bathroom, it was pitch black. She flipped the light and pulled out her phone, texting him a quick, ' _I'm home. Where are you?'_

While she waited for a reply she began warming the shower, finding herself mindlessly staring at the water beating down on the tile shower floor. Jeremy finally sent her back a, _'Grocery store. Needed medicine. Be back soon.'_

Helga sat the phone on the vanity, feeling even _worse_ at that point. It being after midnight, she knew he would had to have run across town to one of the 24/7 stores, and he had to have been feeling pretty bad to have wanted to go out _that_ late to get it.

All while she was out fucking another guy at a party.

She finally slipped out of her dress and stepped into the shower, and after hanging out in the rainfall of water for awhile, her earlier question was answered. No, they did not make water hot enough. There would be no cleansing away what she'd done, and it flat out disgusted her. What disgusted her the most was how easily she'd gotten-God she hated the word- _seduced_ by Arnold. She wasn't the cheating type. Never had been. She'd never once thought about running around behind Jeremy's back, no matter how stale or how luke warm their relationship was or any kind of problems they may have had.

But Arnold obviously _was_ the type, because he had had a girlfriend running around at that very party, none the wiser. A girlfriend he _really_ didn't care about what so ever. And she thought he had been half joking.

Not her though. She actually loved Jeremy.

...right?

Much like how she couldn't hold up in her car forever, she wouldn't be able to hold up in the shower either. And the idea of several hours of unconscious sleep sounded _very_ emotionally relieving to her at that moment. She left the stall, drying off, walking back into their bedroom to fish for some pajamas, thankful that Jeremy still wasn't back, before climbing into their bed and coming to lay on her side, facing her nightstand.

It seemed like she laid there for a little while, praying to fall asleep before he came back. She just couldn't deal with being aware of his presence. But that would have been too kind of a thing for the universe to offer her, because no sooner had she thought it, she heard him come walking into their room.

She didn't look at him. Couldn't really. She just laid there, eyes closed, pretending to already be asleep, knowing that he wouldn't bother her. She heard him sit his keys and his phone down on his night stand and the shift of him sitting down on the edge of the bed, clothes rustling and then the covers moving as he climbed in beside her.

* * *

Helga slept in late the following morning, and she would have probably slept until noon had it not been for Jeremy coming in and teasing her awake with a couple butterfly kisses on the back of her neck. He was obviously feeling better, way better, because that was the type of thing he did when he was hunting for a little bit of morning sex. The idea made her stomach churn and the shame ignite and continue its slow smoldering in the pit of her soul.

She blinked her eyes awake and cocked her head to look at him, "Good morning." He greeted sweetly. Helga grunted her reply, as he put his arm around her and kissed the side of her head.

"Not right now..." She finally kill switched his advancing. A disappointed groan whined out of his throat. "I've got headache," She lied, but knew that he'd buy it, hook, line and sinker, because it really _wasn't_ often she turned him down.

"Drink too much last night?" He asked. She could hear the laughter in her voice, and it made her ill.

She didn't find it funny at all, but in a singular kernel of honesty, she shook her head and replied with, "No, but I didn't drink a whole lot of water yesterday," That part at least, was true, even if the headache wasn't.

Jeremy pulled away from her, "You really need to drink more water in general," He scolded and she watched him slide out of bed and head towards the door.

"Where you going?" She asked.

"To get you some water."

* * *

The entire rest of the day had been absolutely miserable for Her. Like just the most dreadful thing she'd ever gone through in her entire life. One hundred percent of it stemmed from her radiating with the shame of her one night stand, and then having to be around her boyfriend all damn day. Because he was home, all damn day and it was a damn chore to act normal around him, because she felt like she had the word 'whore' written in giant red letters on her forehead.

It was awful. _Awful_. The most awful thing about it was that she _wasn't_ a cheater. She. Wasn't. A. Cheater!

But she was now, now wasn't she?

You. _Bet._

The worst part was still the worst part from the night prior. She'd laid around the apartment, writhing in her hatred of it. Hooking up with Arnold should have felt like a mistake, but it didn't totally feel that way, despite her whirling self loathing. There was almost a relief to it than anything and she was beside herself about it.

She finally took her childhood crush to bed _._

Goodie.

She supposed that maybe _that_ was what the sense of relief was. Years she'd spent pinning after him. Years. Only having moved _completely_ on with her life, does he decide to sex her up at a party like his life depended on in it.

Life. Was. A. _Bitch._

The only other relief she got for the day was at 4:30, Jeremy headed out to his serving job at a local restaurant, which meant Helga, depending on how late she stayed up, technically didn't have to see him again until tomorrow morning. She absolutely _hated_ that she was glad to see him go, but she just couldn't look at him. Couldn't stare him, couldn't look into those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes of his knowing what she had done.

She was a coward.

She had plugged herself to the couch, preparing for a night of netflix binging in an attempt to lighten the air in that place when the door bell rang. She couldn't imagine who it could be, other than possibly a neighbor wanting to know if they were having a problem with such and such-they never were. So when she yanked open their apartment door and saw Arnold standing there, looking a little timid, she nearly had a conniption.

"Hey Helga," He said in a very quiet voice, glancing up at the door frame.

Her face blackened in anger, furious that he'd have the _audacity_ to show up there, "What the _hell_ are you doing here?" She implored.

Arnold looked down and then exhaled a breath, reaching into his pocket, pulling out the underwear that she'd left behind in her abrupt departure from him, "To return these for one," He held them out and she snatched them away, _beyond_ livid that he would risk ratting them out to return some crap like that.

"You've got _a lot_ of fucking nerve coming here, you know that? You know I live with him right? What the hell would you have done if he'd answered the door?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. I really don't know." His eyes seemed misty for some reason. " _Is_ he home?

Helga could only stand there and stare at him, her heart missing a few pretty vital beats. No Jeremy wasn't home. And Arnold was there. And this was suddenly a _really_ bad situation for her, "You need to go," She finally managed to get out, but he stuck his arm out to block her from even attempting to shut the door on him. Not that she was trying.

"Look, I just want you to know. I had a _really_ good time with you last night." Helga rolled her eyes at him and he quickly continued with, "And not just the sex, but that was amazing."

She stood there for a minute glaring at him before choosing to look away and toss him a, "...yeah," not fully committing to a nod, unwilling to actually admit she agreed with him, so that was all he would get from her.

"Is he home?" He asked again, and she looked back at him, but this time he held her gaze with those gorgeous jade eyes of his. That's when she finally noticed the mistiness. They were foggy with burning _want._

She felt her mouth zap dry as she stared up at him. He needed to leave. He needed to leave right then and there. He was a dangerous individual for her. Way to dangerous. Yet, her mouth opened and the breathiest, featheriest, "No," fluttered across her lips while she continued to hold his piercing gaze.

Much like the revolutionary first shot, neither of them was truly _sure_ who lunged at the other first, but it was a collision of mouths and hands as he pushed her back into the apartment.

God he tasted so good too.

Like everything she liked.

* * *

 **A/N:** That dance scene huh? Any of you 80s kids remember a movie called Fright Night? Not the wretched remake either! It has one of the sexiest dance scenes of any movie I've ever seen. Especially when Evelyn King's "Give it Up" drops. I couldn't get that scene out of my head when I was writing that. Lol.

So, this _isn't_ going to be some story about them trying to figure out themselves together, I mean, it _is_ but, there is something _much_ more interesting in store! I hope you guys like it. If not, I'm sorry! Reviews are always cool? Cheers!


	2. Tear up my Reputation

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Full Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Alright, I figured I'd just go ahead and throw up the second chapter instead of sitting on it. One and two were originally just one giant...thing that I'd started into so I split it. So yeah, you know the name of the game with me, if this isn't your first rodeo with me, MANIPULATION. How much can I bend somebody until they break? How far can I push a character before everybody sits back and says, "Damn...I guess I could see that happening." I want this story to be one of those, 'whose really telling the truth,' type deals. I just hope I can pull it off. I don't know if I'm all that good enough though. We'll see!

* * *

 **Tear up my Reputation.**

"Mmm... _ah...Shit-shit_ Right there," Helga groaned as Arnold thoroughly pummeled her into the couch cushions. The earlier attack fest that they'd sprung on one another at her front door had rapidly spiraled into a round two for them. And much like before, Arnold had completely taken control of her. They'd made it as far as the couch before the clothes started coming off and the primal want to explore every inch of each other set in like a fever.

Something that they hadn't been able to do in the quickness the night before.

"Don't stop."

"I can't," He growled out an assurance, "So... _good._ " He then dropped his mouth down, capturing her awaiting lips with his own before resting his forehead to hers, eyes squeezed shut.

"Yeah...yes- _ah!_ God, I'm coming..." Her nails raked across his back when he felt her start to ride the waves of her orgasm, shuddering underneath him, her face flushing a light pink.

Arnold moaned in a low voice, " _Ah_...so am I."

Once he'd completely drained himself, he leaned in and gave her a quick but lingering kiss on her flushed lips before rolling off of her, as much as he could, being on a couch, just to prevent from dropping his full weight onto her, but still halfway pinning her down.

They stayed like that for a little while, neither feeling the need to speak to one another. Helga was the first one to move, wiggling her way out from underneath him and then sliding from the couch. "You need to go," She said. Arnold watched her snatch her shirt from the floor and throw it on, and then slide back into her underwear.

Damn. Now he wanted her again.

He sat up and slung his legs over the couch, reaching into his lap and sliding the spent condom off of himself, knotting the top to prevent spillage. Leaning forward he picked up his jeans and stuck it in one of the pockets. "Are you always this friendly of a host?" He leaned back, reaching over to the far end of the couch, grabbing his boxers, giving them a a shake before standing up and pulling them on.

Helga glared at him, "I'm not itching to get caught."

Arnold rolled his eyes at her, "Then why did you let me in?" He asked. When she failed to answer him he raised his eyebrows high and widened his eyes a little, "Well?"

She huffed, " _Look_ , I've got a million and one things going on in my head right now and I need to figure some shit out."

"You don't think I need to figure some things out too?"

"Then figure them out on your _own_ like I will," Her eyes darkened towards him, "I've got a boyfriend."

"And I've got a girlfriend."

Helga wasn't in any mood to discuss and compare moral compasses between them. Instead her face turned to stone as she stared at him, "Arnold. Get _out_ ," She demanded in a low voice. He sighed, a small smirk tugging at his lips and he knew that it was probably irritating the ever living daylights out of her. However, instead of responding back to her demand, he closed the gap between them and placed both of his hands on her hips, a move she made zero attempt to pull away from, in spite of her demanding he leave.

"Fine," He agreed. "If you really want me to leave," He leaned down and kissed her lips, "I'll leave then."

* * *

By the time Arnold _did_ slip out of her apartment, it was not far from midnight, which was a little while past her original attempt to boot him out. What could he say? They had gotten occupied again, and again. He was beyond tired too, but damn, that girl was like sexual napalm to him. It was the whole reason he'd gone through the trouble of getting her address from Gerald, and then uncharacteristically showing up at her place, having no idea, or any care, if Jeremy would be home or not.

'Hi, here's your underwear from last night. Now what do I have to do to get inside of you again?' Had basically been what he knocked on her door and said. Of course, not in _so_ many words, though, he _had_ been completely truthful when he told her he'd had a really good time with her at the party. He really had. They had clicked in a way that he hadn't with any of the other girl.

It was a shame she was involved. And she seemed to have _no_ desire to explore other options. Well, now that wasn't _exactly_ true. She'd _explored_ him as an option, she just seemed to have no _want_ to trash a relationship-that there was obviously _something_ wrong with if she was hooking up with him-over it. Fair enough.

He supposed she had her reasons. He was just kind of finding himself wishing he'd had the same connection with her back in high school. Or wishing he'd even noticed her. He hadn't paid much attention to her after elementary school, they hardly talked in middle school, they never talked in high school and ceased seeing one another completely after graduation.

And it seemed that two nights would have to be it for him, because Helga had banished him from ever coming there again, and with that she had told him to never speak to her again as well. It seemed rather harsh, but whatever, he respected that, and he supposed he wouldn't come looking for her again either.

Arnold stepped off the elevator in the lobby and saw a dark headed guy heading towards him, dressed in a white long sleeve collard shirt and a pair of black dress pants. He stopped, held his hand out to prevent the elevator doors from shutting, seeing the guy was obviously wanting to catch the lift up. "Hey thanks man," The guy walked past him but then spun around, "Arnold Shortman!" He said, a note of audible surprise in his voice.

Arnold turned and really _looked_ at the guy, indeed recognizing him immediately, though it had been a few years. If the toothpick hadn't been a dead give away, his scarred left eyebrow was, "Jeremy Kirk," He put on a wide smile. What were the _freaking_ odds of that? "It's been awhile," He reached out and offered his hand for a shake, playing cool as ice.

Jeremy shook it, "Yeah it has been. Are you living here now? I thought you still lived over in South Tower with Brian Davis?"

Arnold swallowed, "Um, no, I uh..." _was banging your girlfriend while you were at work_ , "...was here doing some late night studying with a class mate."

"I hear you. I can't be done with school fast enough," Jeremy nodded, rubbing the back of his neck kind of tiredly. "Well hey man, next time you're here, stop by. Helga and I are apartment 301." Now that was some damn irony, considering Helga had forbidden him from ever stepping foot in the building.

 _Ha!_

"Yeah," Arnold nodded, "Absolutely. Thanks."

"Take it easy," Jeremy waved him goodbye and finally let the elevator doors shut. Arnold waved back before turning and striding out of the lobby and into the parking lot in search of his SUV.

* * *

Upstairs, Helga had torn the sheets off of their bed, mildly pissed that she'd even let him in it. Okay, so she was furious she'd let him in her apartment to begin with, but, _whatever_. Now, with a much clearer head, she couldn't help but notice what a extra, extra, extra insult it was letting him in her and Jeremy's bed. It was already bad enough that she was sleeping with him, but damn, her boyfriend had to come home and sleep in that now too?

What a fucking whore thing to do. God this had gotten out of control too quickly. The only saving grace that she had to correct this ship was that she had told him to never come there and to never talk to her again. That night was it.

Whatever _it_ was.

Helga had resigned herself to the idea that _it_ was the 'seven year itch.' Of course hers would have to technically be a five year itch. Her relationship with Jeremy had hit a stale, bored spot and the natural urge to want to find some excitement and explore what was out there had started festering within. Arnold and his badly mangled moral compass had been the perfect foil for her and their chance collision at that party the perfect spark.

But it was out of her system now. Surely. The itch had been scratched, _thoroughly_ and _repeatedly_. She'd gotten her kicks knocking boots with her old childhood friend and now, she would tuck it away, lock it up, throw away the key and go on with her current life, never uttering a word about it, and Jeremy none the wiser.

What he didn't know, wouldn't hurt him.

She just had to make sure she got rid of any evidence first. And the sheets _had_ to come off. Had to, because they reeked of Arnold and she knew there was no way Jeremy wouldn't notice the smell of cologne-that he didn't wear-lingering all over his pillow and sheets. She'd gotten the old sheets off and stuffed into the dirty hamper and crammed into the closet to wash tomorrow and a clean pair on when she heard the front door open.

* * *

 **Two weeks later.**

Two weeks had slipped by and Helga hadn't heard a peep from Arnold. It both surprised and relieved her, because she wasn't constantly having to look over her shoulder, so-to-speak. She had settled back into the daily grind with Jeremy, beginning to not feel _so_ awkward around him. She was a little taken aback by herself though. She had been oh so sure that her little micro-fling with Arnold would bring into focus everything she loved about Jeremy, and while she did thoroughly appreciate his devotedness, and the fact that he'd _always_ treated her like she was the only girl on the planet who mattered, she was still bored as could _be_ with their relationship.

She couldn't exactly ask him to change himself. She couldn't ask him to be more spontaneous, or a little more unpredictable. He was a grounded individual. She'd known that when she'd started dating him in high school.

And so, her mind had started its wandering, thinking about how _alive_ she had felt with Arnold. Of course, the reasonable side knew that some of it was because she _knew_ it was wrong. She postured herself as an individual who _wasn't_ a cheater, but some of her knew that part of what was _so_ hot about being with him was _knowing_ that she could get caught.

She supposed that was the rebellious side of her wanting to rear it's ugly and unnecessary head.

He was all she could think about. She thought about him in the morning, she thought about him in class, at work, before she went to bed...when even she was _with_ Jeremy. Talk about a mind fuck. It was borderline sick at that point.

So it wasn't any surprise that she'd finally come to her wits end with the whole thing. The timing could have been better, she'd admit, because she had been sitting in the auditorium of her final class for the afternoon, listening to the droll of her professor, when she finally decided she just couldn't stand the madness anymore. Her body was practically _hurting_ at that point. Sliding out her phone, she thumbed over to her text messages and selected Gerald's number and typed out, ' _Hey - What's Arnold's address?'_ She asked and then hit send.

Tall Hairboy replied back almost immediately with, ' _Why?'_

Helga rolled her eyes. Why everything had to be so difficult with him, she'd never know. She quickly texted back, _'Crimeny, just give me his address. Please.'  
_

After a few moments he finally sent back, _'South Tower. Next to MUHL. Dorm 225.'  
_

 _'Thanks'_

She then threw her phone and notebook into her bag, having had about as much as she could take of...whatever was going on with her, and her professors rambling lecture, and slid out of a side exit, where she bolted to her car. She wasn't surprised that was where he lived. A lot of medical students lived in South Tower because it was literally next door to the Medical University of Hillwood.

Made it easy to find. Not that a peculiarly placed dorm, on a one way street, that wasn't clearly named with a questionable parking situation in the rain would of stopped her or anything.

She found a parking spot in his, very easy to find, parking garage, second floor, so she literally just had to walk in and figure out which way the numbers ticked, which turned out to be straight on down the hall. Couldn't have been easier. Almost too easy. Her heart was thundering up in her ears, feeling a little bit of heat rising up her face, as she timidly reached out and knocked on the door. She heard no footsteps, though she figured she wouldn't, but quickly enough, the door cracked open, but not by who she was looking for.

Helga stared up at the still lanky young man with short dirty blonde hair, and black rimmed glasses, left brow quirking high, "Brainy?" She phrased as a question, but she already recognized him.

"Helga..." He smiled, a noticeable amount of surprise on his face. "What are you doing here?"

She returned his smile and nonchalantly peeked around him, "Arnold home?" She asked, before shifting her gaze back up to him, "You're in med school too huh?"

Brainy nodded, "Uh...Biology actually, and yeah, he's in his room," He finally stepped aside so she could come through the door, "I can go get him if-"

"Nah, that's okay. Just point me to which one."

"That one," He gestured to the second door off of the living room. Looking around at the set up, Helga assumed that in addition to Brainy, he probably lived with two other people as well. The dorm was huge.

She walked to the door, heart really pounding in her chest as she gave the door knob a twist and walked in. Arnold looked up from his desk, where he'd been intently reading a large book and scribbling some notes on a pad beside it, "Helga?" His eyes widening as he saw her whisk into his room, shutting the door behind her and locking it. He twisted around in his chair, unsure if her being there was a good thing or a bad thing and followed with, "Is everything okay?"

God, he hoped this wasn't a bad news drop by.

She didn't say anything at all as she practically skipped over to him, jumping into his lap, straddling him while her hands jumped to his face, attacking his mouth with her own. His shock instantly melted away, his arms wrapping around her, and his tongue greeting hers for a much needed play date. In between her oral assault she whispered, "Everything's fine. I just want to fuck you."

* * *

They had both fallen asleep after, well, for a lack of better way of terming it, after she'd gotten some Arnold riding lessons in that afternoon. When she finally popped awake from her nice little nap, she noticed that she had fallen asleep with her head laying halfway between his shoulder and chest, her arm resting across his chest, her leg intertwined with his. His arm was curled around her and his breath and light snores puffed onto the top of her hair in a steady, if not a shallow rhythm.

She tilted her head up and looked at him, "Arnold..." She called in a soft voice. His vibrant green eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times as he looked down at her, then taking a deep wake-up breath and stretching his arms.

"How long have I been out?" He mumbled.

"I don't know."

Arnold gazed at her, taking the hand of the arm around her and twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers, smiling sweetly, "You can't kick me out. But, I'm surprised to see you still here," He teased, but was being perfectly honest.

He'd expected to wake up alone.

Helga could only image her hair probably looked like some fresh hell right then, and she only tossed him the most unamused eye roll she had in her. He was probably so full of himself because of her coming to _him._ And as much as she would have _loved_ to pop his balloon, she couldn't find it in herself, simply because she was now in such a good mood and just really didn't care enough. "Yeah, yeah..." She sat up and moved his arm so she could prop her elbow up on the pillow and rest her head in her palm while facing him.

He mirrored her, propping himself up too, "Want to talk about this?" It was a serious question, but he was sporting a smile that border-lined on absolutely playful.

Sighing, she shrugged and replied with a, "Not really."

His smile wasn't at all deterred by her unwillingness to cooperate. He was in a really good mood too, "Well, we've got to discuss it eventually."

"Can I keep seeing you?" She raised her brows, biting her lip as she continued to stare at his handsome face, and into those sparkling green eyes.

"Yeah," Arnold leaned forward and pecked her on the lips, still smiling, "I want to keep seeing you too."

She kissed him back, a smile playing at her lips too, "Can we just keep it simple then?"

"So, I'm taking it, that means I'm still not allowed to return to your apartment because Jeremy is staying?" He sounded disappointed to her, but quite frankly he'd have to get over it.

"Look, I'm not ending my relationship, so give it a rest. I just want to see what this even is. I know that makes me the worst human being but, there is something about you that has become absolutely addicting to me, but I'm not sure it will last," She admitted, but it didn't make anymore sense to her saying it allowed. She wanted to keep seeing him, but didn't want to give up her cushy relationship with Jeremy.

She wanted her cake and to eat it too? Even she didn't know.

She wanted a fall back, is what it was. What if she left Jeremy for Arnold and _this_ turned out to be nothing more than a complete sex soaked bust and ended in a relationship disaster? Then what? She'd be single, having thrown away a perfectly safe and comfortable existence with Jeremy.

Maybe Phoebe had been somewhat correct. Maybe she _was_ more afraid to be alone than she was willing to take a chance at something else.

"I can live with that, and I don't think I'm going to wear off," Arnold confidently told her, looking as smug as he sounded about it.

It caused her to crack a rare, lopsided smile, "You don't think?" She flirtatiously countered with.

He shook his head, leaning into her again for another much longer kiss before saying, "You think I'm addicting? Girl, you are the _best_ that I've _ever_ had," He kissed her again, "And I'm not just saying that either."

"We will see," She teased him, "And, who knows the time, but I _probably_ need to go," She said, even though she had just wound her arms around his neck as they continued to kiss one another. It was obvious she didn't _desire_ to go _anywhere.  
_

She was kind of beginning to hate that. Her mouth said one thing, her body insisted on doing the exact opposite.

"One for the road?" He asked, eliciting a chuckle from her. "Could be another two weeks before I see you again."

"It will not. I _assure_ you," She told him, running her fingers through his hair while he had already moved down, planting warm kisses all over her chest, acting as if he didn't hear her at all, "But yes, I'll take one for the road." He jerked his head up and smirked devilishly at her, coming forward to kiss her before reaching over to his bedside table's drawer to fish out another condom, which then he tossed beside them for whenever he was ready for it. "It didn't warrant mentioning before, but I guess it might now? I'm actually on the pill, so we don't _have_ to use those _if_ you don't want. Unless of course you don't trust me, which is perfectly okay. I'm not offended at all. Girls can be sneaky bitches. But, just giving you the option."

Arnold stared at her for a moment, his smirk growing bigger. "I trust you," He told her and threw the foil pack back into the drawer.

* * *

About thirty minutes later, Arnold was finally seeing Helga out his dorm door after a well spent afternoon with her. The two walked, not saying a word, only smiling to themselves, down his hallway, and out into the parking garage where she dug through her bag for her keys as she led them towards her car.

"BMW huh?" He remarked when he saw the lights blink on the black sedan, "Fancy, fancy. Your dad get you that?" He was clearly teasing and she knew that, however, she couldn't resist granting him one of her unamused stares as she turned to lean against the side of her car, crossing her arms and coolly examining her nails with a smirk.

"Actually, yeah. When I told him I didn't really _want_ to go to Wellington University, he _happily_ bought me a nice car instead. It was still cheaper for him than paying for that high ass tuition. Even after all my scholarships."

Arnold chortled and leaned in with his palm on the top of the car door, "Gets into an ivy league school...extorts sports car out of father instead. _Love it._ "

"It's how I roll," She chuckled too, "Literally," She patted the car, "It's how I roll. Besides, I didn't need an ivy league to do what I'm going to do. Would have been a waste anyway."

"I like that about you."

"What?"

"You didn't do something for the sake of doing it."

Helga copped him a snarky little look, "Yeah, I throw a lot of caution to the wind too."

He shook his head, smile never wavering, "I know, and I _like_ it," She cracked a smirk, pushed off of her car and gave him a peck on the lips. He grabbed her and quickly made it more lengthy. "You should take me for ride in this thing sometime."

"I'll make your head spin," She grinned, kissing him.

He groaned "I know," and kissed her again. "Text me or something tonight, alright?"

"No."

"You're no fun."

"You're reckless," She smiled into his mouth, "You will be seeing me _very_ soon."

After a few more minutes of trying to say goodbye, not really wanting to say goodbye, they finally said their goodbyes and she drove out of the parking garage, leaving him already hot with the anticipation of seeing her again.

By the time Arnold walked back through his dorm door, Brainy was seated on the couch across the room, pretending to watch TV, while he waited for his roommate to finally return so he could jump him with a million and one questions. As soon as he heard the door click he muted the TV.

"What the 'eff Shortman, you're banging Helga now?"

Arnold skid to a stop shot him a look, crossed his arms and proceeded to play dumb about it, "What are you talking about?"

Brainy narrowed his eyes at his friend, "Okay, so you _do_ know that these walls might as well be _paper_ right? You two weren't _exactly_ the quietest in there earlier."

The green eyed blonde sighed and dropped his arms, "Alright, yeah, we've been sleeping together," He admitted.

"Wow, so is Taylor like...vamoose now? I hated her anyway."

"No."

Brainy's eyes widened, now trying to figure out this whole riddle, "Wait, so Helga's your side chick?"

"Yeah, sort of. I'm her side dude then too, I guess. It's complicated."

"Oh snap. That's right. She's still with Jeremy. Man, that's pretty jacked up. Even for you."

Arnold fixed him with a serious glare, suddenly realizing something that could make things hairy. One of his roommates, specifically the one standing across the room from him, had a class, and was well acquainted with his new side girl's boyfriend, "Brian," He sternly began, "You better not so much as make a _peep_ to him about what you saw...or heard here, okay?"

Brainy appeared flat out offended by the warning, " _Dude,_ I'm not going to rat you out. It's none of my business what you two have going on anyway. I was just _surprised_ to see her here," He conceded, seeing the relief wash over his roommates face, "And even more surprised by what was coming out of that room," He smirked again, "Holy smokes, _dude_ , what were you _doing_ to her in there?"

Arnold rolled his eyes and she shook his head, heading towards his room. He didn't have time for his teasing. He had studying to do, "Get some ear plugs," He shot him his ear to ear smile as he closed the door.

* * *

 **Two weeks later.**

Jeremy lackadaisically walked from his and Helga's bedroom a little before midnight, having been asked to take his movie watching to the living room because she wanted to sleep. Fair enough, he probably shouldn't have decided to start 'Transformers' at 10:45 that night, knowing she would be falling asleep around then. Fine. He didn't mind taking his party to the living room.

He plopped down on the couch, realizing the TV remote wasn't laying on the coffee table in front of him. He peeked underneath and saw nothing. He grabbed a couple pillows and didn't see it there either. Must have fallen between the cushions. He scooted to the side and ran his hand along the back, but didn't feel anything. Finally, he slipped his hand between two of the cushions and felt it crammed down in there. When he pulled it out, he hadn't immediately realize that his hand had grabbed something else. Something else that had been sitting right near the remote.

It was torn, gold, with ragged edges that were once joined to its other half that that seemed no longer present. It was something that had absolutely n _o_ business being in _his_ apartment, because he had not needed the use of one for years at that point.

He held it to the light, "What the..?"

* * *

 **One week later.**

Helga came rushing into the sandwich shop that she and Phoebe always had lunch at. She'd really had to scoot to make it across campus from Arnold's dorm to even have some resemblance of being on time. They were seeing each other _a lot_ more than she imagined they would. Practically every other day, one of them was sneaking off to meet the other. It was surprising how many places could be found to have a secret rendezvous in that were outside of the traditional spots, yet despite her previous ban on going to her apartment, they'd wound up there a few more times because of the sheer thrill of it.

So when she came sprinting into the cafe, and slid into the booth across from Phoebe, it drew a very odd stare from her best friend who asked, "Did you just come from the gym?"

She half laughed and took giant gulp of her soda that, as usual, had already been ordered for her, "Not exactly," She replied and then went to flag the waiter down, "Hi, yeah can we go ahead and order?" She was freakin' starving. The two girls placed their order and made small talk until their sandwiches were delivered.

Phoebe mostly picked at her meal, more interested in the odd, yet energetic mood her friend seemed to be in. After waiting around for Helga to maybe be the one to tell her what was going on, or possibly what had changed since they last hung out, she finally just straight up asked, "Are you okay?"

Helga stopped, mid-chew, and looked up at her friend. She was about to give her a canned, 'yeah' response when Phoebe's brow raised high and she gave her a stern, almost mothery type look. Her way of saying, 'Don't bullshit me.' without saying it.

The blonde began licking her lips, "Technically...yes, but not really."

Phoebe shot her a 'wtf' expression, "How are you okay but not? What kind of trouble have you gotten into?"

Helga put her sandwich down and folded her arms on the table, looking around to see who might be in there before leaning into the table and saying, "So um...I've been..." She trailed off, not really _wanting_ to admit it, but knowing she needed to. Phoebe was her best friend. She had to tell her, "I've been...sleeping with Arnold since Gerald's party."

Phoebe's mouth fell open, dropping her own sandwich and wiping her hands on her lap napkin, "So you and Jeremy finally took a break then? Or broke up?"

Her friend's eyes shamefully diverted to the table, "No," She admitted in a quiet voice.

"Oh goodness..." Phoebe uttered, still in complete shock. "So, you are sneaking around with Arnold behind Jeremy's back?" Yes. It sounded just as awful said aloud then as it did before. Her friend limply nodded. "Why? What good can come of that?"

Helga exhaled and looked back at her friend, "Trust me, I know. Arnold has just...he's just been like a dose of adrenaline for me."

"Then break _up_ with Jeremy and go get it out of your system. That is just _wrong_ what you're doing, Helga."

"You think I don't know that?" Helga snapped back, "Sorry..." She quickly apologized, "I...I really just don't know what I want."

Phoebe frowned, "Well, traditionally, if one is sneaking behind her boyfriend's back to _be_ with another guy, it tends to suggest that _one_ would rather be with the other guy."

Helga sighed and rocked back in the booth seat, leaning against the wooden back, "Yeah, you know what? You're right. I _like_ Arnold. These last few weeks of being with him have made me incredibly happy."

"...but? Seems like you've answered your own question."

"I just don't know if there could ever be trust there."

Phoebe rolled her eyes, "Well of course not. You're _both_ running around behind your significant other's _backs._ How could there be any _real_ trust? You both have admitted to one another, via your actions, that you're willing to wander if you find something that interests you."

"I'm _not_ a cheater," Helga shook her head, mostly to herself. She knew her actions made her a newly forged liar as well, but she continued, "I've _never_ been, and I really can't explain why I've gotten sucked into this with him other than...there's just something _about_ him. There has always _been_ something about him. It's not just the sex either. I mean, don't get me wrong, it is incredible, _but_ we can literally just lay in bed for hours and just talk about anything and everything, and I love that."

Phoebe ran her hand through her dark tresses before adjusting her glasses and sitting back in her seat, "Helga, you need to figure this out, and quickly, because this wont end well. Somebody is going to get hurt."

"I know," She sighed, a heavy amount of dread weighing on her chest at the mere thought, "I know..."

* * *

 **Three weeks later.  
**

It had been eaten at him for almost a full month. Why? Why had the torn top of a condom packet been in _his_ apartment. At first he'd almost been willing to cast it off as a mere misunderstanding. After all, they didn't own the furniture in that apartment. No. That was a fully furnished university apartment. Perhaps it had gotten crammed down in there from the last students that lived there and the the building management hadn't done a super thorough job cleaning the nooks and crannies before they moved in two years ago.

It was _entirely_ possible.

But the keen observer in him couldn't help but notice the subtle change in her. How she seemed distant from him, yet _happier_. Like she had a little pep in her step. Not that he'd ever noticed her unhappy or anything.

Who was he kidding. She didn't _seem_ distant from him, she _was_ distant from him.

Something was going on.

And he'd finally let it chew at him enough that he finally cracked at work at about three hours into his shift. He'd told the floor manager he was feeling sick, gotten somebody else to cover his section and bolted from the restaurant.

When he walked into his apartment it was empty. Like he'd hoped it wouldn't be. He flexed his jaw muscles a little, "Uh huh..." That was when he knew.

He _knew_. He just knew!

But with who? He started pacing around. Of course he could just confront her, but she'd deny it. He couldn't _prove_ it.

It was just a gut feeling.

Who? Who? _Who?_

His pacing around became more furious as he was trying to piece together some timeline that he could try to pinpoint when things had changed. Over a month. Okay that was a start. Right around the time she went to Gerald's party.

Honestly, like right after that party.

But who could she...

He stopped and looked up. Who, out of the ordinary, had he seen right around that time? "Motherfucker..."

Going into a white hot blur, he hurriedly changed clothes, grabbing his keys and grabbing her spare key fob before blowing out his front door like a storm. He knew exactly where that asshole lived. Brian had invited him and several others for a midterm study session that semester that he'd declined, having way too many other things going on.

When he got over to South Tower, he went straight to the second floor of the parking garage, parked, got out and immediately smashed the lock button on her key fob, first hearing it chirp and then spotting her black sedan light up. "Goddammit!" He yelled as he continued walking towards the building doors. Blasting through it, he charged down the hallway until he was standing in front of dorm 225, pounding the bottom of his fist against the metal door.

It finally opened, exposing a brown headed dude, not Arnold, or Briany, so he assumed it was some other roommate they had. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"Looking for Arnold," Jeremy quickly said and pushed inside.

"Whoa, hey I think he's busy."

"Oh, I _know_ he's busy. Which room?" He demanded.

The brown headed guy sighed, shut the door and pointed to the room off of the living area and walked back down the hallway, "I don't have time for this crap..." He mumbled until he walked into his room. Jeremy walked over to the door, stood beside it and reached over and banged his hand on the wood.

He heard a very muffled 'what?' but didn't hear any attempt to answer it, so he banged again, and even harder. This time, he did hear some commotion and seconds later, the door yanked open, "What the hell!" Arnold barged through, suddenly confused by the lack of anybody being immediately there, and right as he turned to see the last person he'd expected, Jeremy reached out, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slinging him out the doorway.

"Arnold!" Jeremy heard her shout as her lover stumbled out into the living area and he walked into the doorway. Helga was coming off the bed, yanking her tee-shirt back on when she froze.

"Jeremy..." She gasped, and for what seemed like forever, they just remained in their respective spots, staring at one another. A million thoughts were speeding around her skull. The how's the why's the why now's. She also noticed, for the first time, the amount of darkness masking his deep brown eyes. An anger that she'd never before seen in him, as long as she'd been with him.

He looked back at Arnold, "That's why you were in the building that night," He reached in his pocket and pulled out the torn condom foil. "Found this between my couch cushions. Imagine my surprise right? Wasn't mine. We didn't need them. But I guess you're the paranoid type right? Well hey, you probably should take inventory. You know, next time you're fucking another guy's girl in his apartment," He flicked the piece of trash in the air and left it to fall to the floor.

Arnold could only glare at him, "Get the hell out of here," He demanded. Jeremy laughed because of the audacity of the situation and walked away from the bedroom door. Helga finally emerged from the bedroom once he had moved away, and it left the three of them in a triangulated stare off.

"Five years huh? Five years and this is the way it ends? You could have told me you were unhappy, but no, you have to do _this."_ Jeremy's face hardened in disgust at her, "I loved you, and you whored yourself away to him."

" _Hey!_ " Arnold's voice boomed at Jeremy. Helga knew it was an effort to defend her, and it made her absolutely want to puke.

The dark headed guy turned to his blonde foe, "No, no I think that it's an appropriate term here, and if you're into that, then great news. She's all _yours_ now buddy," He then looked back at at her, "Because I'm done with you. Now I'm going home, and I am packing up my stuff and I'll be out by tomorrow morning, but don't you _dare_ show up there tonight." He spared her one last blistering look before turning, walking past Arnold and out the dorm door.

When the door shut, Arnold looked back and Helga, who had the most unreadable look on her face, seemingly more dazed and confused than anything finally looked at him as if it were the first time she'd noticed him there. She the exhaled a breath she'd been holding in for awhile, shook her head at him and stepped back into his room. "Helga," He called to her as he began striding towards his room, only to have the door slammed on him, and locked for good measure, "Helga..." He said right against the wood.

On the other side, Helga had slid down to sit with her back against the door, steadfastly trying to process what the hell had just happened.

* * *

An hour ticked by before she came busting out of his room, now fully dressed with her bag flung over her shoulder, making a bee line for his dorm exit. Arnold jumped up from the couch where he had been waiting it out, "Helga!" He called.

"Leave me alone, Arnold," She coldly replied, not even bothering to look at him as she wrenched open the door and blew into the hallway. Being only in his pair of boxers still, he ran to his room, slung on the first pair of athletic shorts he could find on his floor and ran out the door after her. She was about halfway across the parking garage to her car when he caught up to her.

"Helga, please..." He reached out and grabbed her arm, which she quickly pulled away from him, spinning around, and shooting him down with a hard glare.

"Leave. Me. Alone!"

"Why are you _being_ this way?" He exacerbated.

"I hurt him, Arnold!" She yelled.

Now he was getting angry, "I'm sorry that this happened! You think I _liked_ him showing up in my dorm and yanking me out of my room? Hell _no!_ Don't freaking act like you _suddenly_ are sorry about hurting him!"

"It was a mistake. It was a big mistake."

"You two were over _well_ before now. Why can't you admit that! You wouldn't have been fucking me on a regular basis if you _weren't!_ " He yelled at her.

Helga's eyes thinned even more, "The fuck do you know?!"

"I know that you've spent more time with me in the last month than you have with him. Why would you want to continue to _be_ with some somebody that you don't want to spend time with?"

"Well thank you Arnold. Thank you for helping me _ruin_ my relationship. This stupid little fling was a _giant_ fucking mistake," She rolled her eyes, turned around and started to walk off again. "And now I've hurt somebody that I cared about for this meaningless shit."

Arnold sighed, feeling suddenly drained by the entire situation, "But I don't think this was stupid at all," Helga stopped and looked back at him. He swallowed, "I don't think this was meaningless either. I'm _glad_ he's finally out of the picture. I am."

She snorted, "Ah, so I can be even _more_ available to keep your dick warm while you continue to prance around with _your_ sorority bitch?" So help her, she didn't know why she was being so mean to him. One hundred percent of this was her fault, not his. "No thanks..."

Arnold stared at her, blinking at the obvious, "I'll get rid of her," He said, "Consider her gone."

Looking off, she stressed laughed and, ran a hand down her face, "I can't trust you. You can't trust me either. Look at the circumstances. We're both selfish people."

"Helga, you are the _only_ girl I've ever done something like this with. And the _only_ reason I kept her around and agreed to this _whole_ set up, was because you wouldn't _leave_ him," He took a few steps towards her, grabbing her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers, "We're free now. Why can't we just go with this?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Well? What will happen next chapter? I told you all, after this one, it's going to go flying in a crazy direction. Anyway, thank you to those who left comments and followed, faved. Always interested to hear people's opinions because, sometimes, people suggest things that give me ideas or make me look more closely at a certain element of the story.


	3. Take me down, six underground

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Yeah. "slowish updates" my rear end...I've suddenly had _plenty_ of time and decided to knock out another chapter in between WATO. Also, _wow_ , thank you to everybody who has given some feedback on this story! I _really_ appreciate it! Yeah, I know you guys have a lot of questions and some of them get answered in this chapter, but...many more get raised so...I'm not sure if I've done you any favors, but, stay with me folks...this is going to get _INTERESTING._

* * *

 **Take me down, six underground.  
**

 **The ground beneath your feet.**

 **One year later.**

"Helga...Helga! Slow down...slow—you're going to—Oh, Jesus _..._ " Helga side eyed her boyfriend sitting in her passengers seat, one hand on the dash board and the other clutching the upper door handle, wide eyed staring out the windshield, as she sped up on another car, both fastly approaching a sharp bend on the mountain they were working up. She floored it and whipped out from behind the vehicle, blowing past them and back into their lane just in time, adding enough space for her to two break tap before careening them around the sharp curve leading into the hills. Had it been icy, she probably would have slid the damn car around the bend, "Fuuuuuuuuck!" He yelled as they plowed around the twist, G-force pushing them both to the far side. She loved it when he was foulmouthed, because he rarely ever was unless something felt _really_ good, was _really_ scary or he was downright _angry_. Hopefully her little stunt fell into the second category...and maybe the first too. When they finally made it around the turn and hit a straight away, they both sat back in their seats.

Arnold had started laughing, popping his hands together once before brushing them through his hair haphazardly and trumpeting, "What a _rush!_ "

"I told you!" She glanced quickly at him, "This is why people _love_ these cars," They sped around an opposite curve, going higher and higher. "My seat better be dry over there, Football head."

He looked over at her, as she was concentrated on driving. She'd promised to eventually take him for a legit spin in that thing, and on his first trip with her to her parents mountain house, she hadn't disappointed. "Nothing to worry about. It's a small puddle at best," He joked and she leaned over and shoved his shoulder before flooring it around another twisted bend, sending him flying into his door with a beaming smile.

Another 30 minutes or so of that, and they she finally turned off onto a steep gravel road leading upwards into the woods. They crept up that at a slow speed, coming to a fork which she took a left at, driving a little further before it birthed into a modest clearing where they could see her parents cabin perched in the side a relaxed vertical slope. It was the epitome of northwestern charm, with it's frontier log style aesthetics.

Helga parked, and they both exited her vehicle. "This is it huh?" Arnold squinted up at the house, before looking back at her with a smirk. She had already popped the trunk and had one of her bags thrown over her shoulder.

"Sweet escape," She replied with a grin, watching him walk over.

"I got them," He insisted as he snatched up the rest of their luggage for the long weekend. When they walked into the cabin, Helga pointed him upstairs to the bedrooms and went over and activated the thermostat to get that place comfortable. Arnold lunged up to the loft area, dropping their bags on the bed of the master room before slipping back downstairs.

"Well, what you want to do for the afternoon?"

"Whatever you want," He grinned.

"We could go hiking?"

"That actually sounds pretty nice. I need to stretch my legs after the trip."

They went on a short-ish hike, a few miles round trip, Helga showing her all of her favorite spots while she was growing up, showing him the babbling stream that was just above the cabin, where their cabin neighbors were and all the best view points were. By late afternoon they headed down the mountain to the closest tiny town and had dinner at a small dinner before returning, rounding out the evening with a terrible game monopoly, because it was the only other thing to do once night had fallen, besides watch the few local channels they had on the ancient television.

There was plenty to do during the days, and...they had _plenty_ they could do at night he supposed as well.

* * *

Arnold was in his happy place for the night, _completely_ , eyes shut in euphoria as his girlfriend slowly rocked against him, her hands splayed out on his chest. He brought his own hands up and grabbed her hips, oscillating her in a way that had him groaning out a string of mumbled profanities. "God, baby...you're perfect."

She seemed not to even hear him, in her own haze, lips parting as she tipped her head back and brought her hands up to run through her hair, before bringing them down to his hands where she dug her nails into tops of them. Arnold hissed, opening his eyes to stare up at her, beginning to thrust against her with much more fervor. A few moments later he felt her tighten around him as she peaked. He kept at her, giving her as much as she could take, feeling her continue to convulse around him, "That's right. Come for me," he told her, right as he was tripping over his edge.

That was when she slipped up and yelled, "Ah... _fuck!_ Arnold I love you." Arnold's eyes widened at her, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had no choice but to ride out his, even more glorious than usual, orgasm. When she finally fell over onto him and rolled to his side he just laid there, trying to figure out how to go about everything all the while still radiating from the sex.

He was relieved to hear it, but still curious about, why she picked right then.

"So, you want to talk about that?" He finally asked after his heart had somewhat normalized.

Yet, she seemed completely oblivious as to what he was talking about, "About what?"

"You said you loved me."

 _Shit._ Helga's face dropped and took all of the color with it, "Did...did I say that _aloud?_ "

Arnold sort of half smiled, "Yeah...you did."

"Fuck!" She swore in a hiss and quickly sat up, "I am... _so_ sorry. That was probably _really_ awkward for you."

Arnold rushed to sit up as well, reaching out to touch her arm, "No, really, it's not a big deal. I—"

"I screwed this up didn't I?" She looked back at him with that expression she always harbored when she was royally pissed at herself for something.

"No. Not even close," He shook his head and waved the erroneous suggestion off, "I was going to say that...I—I feel the same way." Her face softened as she gazed at him, "I love you too. Haven't found the right moment to say it because I was afraid you would get freaked out, and...well, I was _not_ expecting _that_ a minute ago." He smirked.

* * *

 **Four years & six months later.**

Helga walked into her kitchen, footing the door to the garage shut, more interested in sorting through the pile of mail that was in their mailbox that Friday than anything. She hung her keys on the hook, distractedly flipping through envelop after envelop in her hands when her eye caught sight of something small and red laying on the wood floor. She looked past the mail and realized it was a rose pedal. Scratch that, not just one, but a whole mess of them scattered from the door, leading through the kitchen and turning into the living area.

She dropped the mail down on the bar, eyes squinting curiously as she followed the trail, a little smirk jumping to her face. She couldn't imagine what he might have been up to. "Arnold?" She beckoned. No response.

It was obvious that she was _suppose_ to follow the roses somewhere. Lord knew what was waiting or why. Her heart began to beat a little faster as she walked through the kitchen and around into the living room, seeing that the floral trail led out into their newly expanded back patio. She opened the door to see him sitting in one of their chairs, a glass of red wine in his hand and a couple steaks sizzling merrily on the grill. He had the whole back area golden lit with their torches and a little bit of music playing softly through the outdoor speakers.

Hearing the door slide open he turned his head and looked back at the house, smiling happily when he saw her, "Hey," He greeted and took a sip of his wine.

Helga stepped onto the patio giving him a suspicious look, "Hey, you," She walked towards him, "What occasion do I owe all of this to?"

Arnold stood up, walked over to their patio table and poured a second glass of wine, handing it to her with a grin, "It's a special day."

Her eyebrows lifted and she took a sip from her glass, "Is it? I can't for the life of me think of _what?_ "

"You'll remember, _trust_ me," He was grinning at her like he was _majorly_ up something, "Sit. Steaks are almost done," He turned and walked back over to the grill.

She humored him and slid down into the table chair, "You could just tell me, you know," She said, watching him tong the steaks onto individual plates and then cut open a couple foil packets that he had vegetables roasting in, spooning them on as well. He returned to the table, sitting everything down and seating himself across from her.

"I could tell you, but that would be too easy," He smirked like a cocky little bastard at her, picking up his fork and knife.

She forked a piece of broccoli into her mouth, chewing and swallowing, "So you're just going to force me to play a guessing game?"

"If you want. I'd prefer to just hear about your day."

She quietly chuckled, "Fine. We'll do this _your_ way then."

For the next 45 minutes, that chatted about their days while eating their dinner that he'd surprised her with. The whole time she couldn't figure out if she had _really_ forgotten some important date for them, which, she'd admit was entirely possible considering the week she'd had, or if he was trying to butter her up to ask for something, and what that could be, she had _no_ clue of.

It better not had be him telling her they were going to have to move, because so help her, she'd be pissed. They had just bought that house five months prior and she was not about to try to unload it into the market as it was being torn apart with renovations. They both had quickly discovered that they shared the same city life exhaustion, having both grown up in town, amidst the hussle and bussle of everybody's work life, that when they had decided to leave their apartment and purchase a house together, they each knew that they wanted to live on the outskirts of town, in a much quieter area. It wasn't a huge house, but not a tiny one either, needing its fair share of work, and a decent face lift to boot. Arnold had fallen in love with it immediately, loving its classic charm and the fact that it had originally been built in the early 1900s by a doctor. Seemed fitting to him that another would live in it again. After Helga had gone through it with a fine tooth comb, and said that it structurally checked out, they bought it, moved in and started doing a little work to it here and there as they had the time. Windows, back patio expansion, updated appliances and fixtures, ripping up flooring, the works.

It probably wasn't that. She probably _had_ really forgotten something. And it would probably be super obvious when he reminded her. Whatever. She wasn't worried. When they finished eating, he plated his napkin and stood, offering his hand out for her take, which she did.

Walking them to the edge of the patio, he pulled her in front of him, putting his arms around her from behind, bringing her back flush with his front and began swaying a bit to the music, "I love those woods, you know that? So...quiet and peaceful. This whole place."

She chortled, fishing for his hands to wrap hers in, "Me too," She agreed, really wondering where he was going with it all, especially since he wouldn't give her his right hand for some reason.

"I've been thinking though," He said into her ear, continuing to sway them to the music, "I really want to make all of this official." He reached over with his right hand, using his left hand to hold hers still while he slipped something onto her finger and then asked, "Will you marry me?"

Helga gasped and spun around in his arms looking up at him in shock and then back down at her hand where a lovely, yet eloquently simple white gold diamond ring sat on her left hand. Perfectly _her_ too. He knew she wasn't a big jewelry girl, the 90s kid in her wore a thumb ring on her right hand and that was it. Her eyes jumped back to his smiling face, realizing that she had _yet_ give him an answer. Reaching up, she pulled his face to her, kissing him hard before saying, "Of course I will. I love you."

Smiling from ear to ear, Arnold pulled her even closer to him, getting a little wrapped up with her mouth before finally whispering back, "I love you forever."

"Not maybe?"

"Not maybe."

He was right. She would remember that day.

* * *

 **Four years & eight months later. **

It was a lazy kind of night after a long, very long week being on the run and, in Arnold's case, putting in some crazy residency hours at Hillwood Medical. The two had intended to go grab dinner with Phoebe and Gerald, but that had degenerated into them just choosing to veg out at home instead and crawl into bed early for some much needed _them_ time. Helga herself had a lot twirling around in her head, especially after an annual doctors visit that week. With she and Arnold moving forward in life together, it would eventually come up, she just didn't want to wait too long.

So it was that night, while she had her head laying on his chest, enjoying a little afterglow cuddling that she finally just decided to broach the subject with him. "What do you think about trying to have a baby?"

Unsurprisingly to her, he didn't skip a beat. He was Arnold. Cool as a cucumber. His only movement was to tilt his head down to stare at the top of her head. She could sense that and pulled away from his chest to lay her head beside his on the pillow, continuing to rest her hand on his belly. His eyes followed her and he was wearing the warmest smile, his eyes all squinty, when he asked, "Phoebe giving you baby fever?" He picked, referring to the Johanssen's and their impending parenthood.

"A little bit, yeah," She admitted with a smirk.

"And now you want one? We have our wedding in a year. _Destinational,_ might I add."

"Well, no I don't want one right _now_."

He was a little confused at that point. She wanted to have a child, but didn't want to have one? "So...if you don't want one right now, then..."

She sighed, "Because I _know_ it's not going to be a quick thing for me."

Now his interest was really perked, "And why is that?"

"I've always had this...irregular period thing. Birth control evens me out but, I never realized that my mom and my sister both had a lot of trouble getting pregnant until my mom mentioned it to me when she was asking if you and I wanted kids," She absently began tracing circles on his stomach.

"Uh huh."

Her eyebrows popped once as she ceased her skin doodling, "They had the _same_ irregularness that I have so...I just _know_ it's going to take _forever._ I mean, it took my mom five years to get pregnant with me. Five years! I don't want to be into my mid-30s, popping out my first kid because I waited so long."

He chuckled, "Yeah, I don't want to be old either," He agreed, still gingerly smiling at her, "But I'm sure it wont take _that—_ "

"—But what if it _does?_ "

Arnold sighed, reaching his hand down to his belly and intertwining his fingers with hers, "Can I finish?" When she gave him one of her famous, teasing eye rolls, he leaned in and kissed her on the nose. "I doubt it will take _that_ long. You're probably the exception. It's kind of your thing, after all."

"...yeah."

"Plus, they have some really effective treatments for this kind of thing now."

"Sure, if you're okay with potentially having multiples at one time. _No thanks_ ," She sighed, "Look _I get it_. You _aren't_ on board. You could've just said so instead of beating around the bush," She told him, sounding as if it _didn't_ bother her. Truthfully, it _wasn't_ the end of the world to her, but it had been something that had been on her mind for a little while by then. It was what it was. Perhaps it would be best to just wait till after they got married and hope for the best.

Arnold was having none of that though. He believed her, he thought she was having a bit of a complex over it, especially just making the assumption there would be a problem, but hey, he was becoming a heart surgeon, what did he know about potential fertility issues? Not exactly his focus of study, "No I didn't say that." She gave him a skeptical look, and he continued with, "I was just pointing out your assumption. However...if you, I don't know, started doing absolutely _nothing_ to prevent it from happening, there wouldn't be _any_ objection from me."

"Really?"

He smiled, "Really. I _want_ us to have a family together. The 'when' has never been particularly important. Whether you want one now, a year from now or five years from now isn't a concern to me, just that you _do_ want one with me. But..." Quite suddenly, he rolled himself onto her, pinning her beneath him, while bringing his toothy smiling face nose to nose with hers as she stretched her arms up and then hung them around his neck. Kissing her quickly he went on, "If this happens _quickly_ , so help me, I'm taking your butt down to the court house and we're getting married right there. Kiss Belize _goodbye._ "

"Oh, _so_ barbaric."

"You aren't popping a kid out without being a legit Shortman. I won't have it," He kissed her again.

She smirked back at him, "We're going to Belize babe, _trust_ me."

"We'll see."

"Yeah, we'll see," She echoed.

"Hey," He perked up, as if the thought had only just occurred to him, "You know what baby making means?"

"What?"

"Fifty percent more sex."

She rolled her eyes at him, "How does that work exactly? You're already insatiable."

"Like you aren't? Also, _I'm_ a doctor. I _know_ what I'm talking about here."

She snorted, "You're a quack."

* * *

 **Five & a half years later.  
**

Helga had woken up that cloudy Saturday morning, more than a bit of a curmudgeon and in an particularly pessimistic mood for a weekend day. Her mind dwelt on it all while she sat outside on her patio, sipping her coffee and watching the wild rabbits from the woods nibble on blades of grass in her back yard. She partially blamed her mood on the argument she'd gotten into the prior night. There was a lot of wisdom in the saying, 'never go to bed angry.' and it was advice she hadn't heeded for an exchange so s _tupid_ , she wasn't sure why it was _even_ an argument.

Though, just like _any_ other couple. They weren't above a good bickering.

She hated their dogs sleeping in the bed with them, and she _definitely_ wanted to put a stop to it _now_ , given their new circumstances. She'd crated them before she went to bed and before he'd even gotten home from his shift. What had he done when he got home? Let them out and let them get in the bed. Needless to say she was _not_ happy about being woken up by two beagles jumping on top of her _  
_

She fussed, he fussed back, they both ended up rolling away to their separate sides of the bed, backs to each another in agitated huffs, leaving two dogs still in the middle of the mattress.

The rest of her tartness she blamed on her utter _tiredness_ from tossing and turning the remainder of night from sea sickness. Sure she had been aggravated, but pregnancy was proving to be a cruel endeavor for her. Even a mere 13 weeks in, she was already hating life, and _hating_ feeling like she was plowing through the perfect storm on a fishing boat, _non-stop_. If she were honest, it had gotten better since her doctor had put her on a little medicine for it. But still, some days she would have a rough morning, other days it might be a rough afternoon, and still other times it might be a night of feeling like if she moved too quickly, she'd puke all over the bed.

None the less, she was still as enthusiastic as ever. Grouchy a lot of days, but otherwise over the moon about it all.

Her ears perked when she heard their back door slide open, the boisterous clicking of canine paws across cement as their two mutts went flying past her and into the backyard, hurdling towards the thick woods that lined their property where the disappeared into its shaded abyss.

A pair of much heavier, exhausted footsteps dragged behind them and Arnold slumped down in the patio chair next to hers. He looked tired, hair a wreck, raccoon eyes and she was surprised that he was _even_ awake seeing as he had done a 24 hour shift at the hospital by the time he had arrived home the night prior, "Hey," He mumbled, bringing his own coffee cup to his lips as he squinted into the yard and then side eyed her, trying to gauge the mood she was in, after last night and all.

"Morning," Was her own tired response as she glanced at him briefly, still holding on to a bit of a grudge, "I'm surprised you're awake."

He yawned, "The dogs woke me up."

"Did they?" She sarcastically feigned surprise.

"I'm sorry," He said after some time, reaching over and putting his hand over top hers on her armrest, giving it a gentle squeeze, "About last night. We'll start crating them... _every_ night. They are pains, really." Helga looked over at him, gave him a faint half smile and nodded. He took another sip of his coffee.

"Especially when _I'm_ the one they insist of sleeping right on top of."

He chuckled, bringing her hand over to his mouth and kissing the top of it. All was forgive. "You feeling okay this morning?"

"I feel like I'm on a boat."

"Anything I can do?"

She shook her head, but offered him a sincere little smile, "No. Hopefully I'm just getting it out of the way for the day." She didn't want to worry him with her complaints about an ordinary problem that millions of other women had dealt with. She wasn't the whiny type. And if that was the only thing in her 27 year old life that she had to complain about, then she was fine with it.

All things considering, and in spite of the fact that she currently felt less than ideal, at such a young age, she was living a fairly charmed life. She had a good, if not mundane commercial inspecting business, a handsome doctor-in-residency fiance'-scratch that, _husband_ , in a month-whom, she would soon have a beautiful baby with, and a storybook Victorian home on the outskirts of Hillwood where they would raise he or she.

Picture _perfect.  
_

Pretty good considering their wild, and adulterous start as a couple. Oh but there they were, to the surprise of most, almost six years later, still unable to get enough of one another, and with no signs of another dreaded five year itch for her on the horizons. There really had been something to that old saying she'd casually mentioned to Phoebe that day at their luncheon. She'd never had a day where she wondered if she were really in love with him.

Every inch of her existence was in love with that man, and if soul mates existed, he was definitely _hers._

Thinking about it made her smile as she finished off her one cup of coffee for the day. She'd tried to make it last as long as possible, but as with everyday, she'd reached the bottom _way_ too quickly. Only being allowed a cup was a form of _torture_. Truly. Especially on weekends when she got to watch Arnold practically drink a pot on some days.

"So," He began after he took a long sip, "What do you want to do today?

"We really need to go price out some hardwood." Arnold lifted an eyebrow, throwing her a less than enthusiastic look. She was hell bent of renovating their old house and he was hell bent on...putting it off for as long as possible so he didn't have to deal with it. "Babe, our child is not coming home with our entire upstairs still bare sub-flooring."

It could be _so_ time consuming renovating a house, and as much as he knew that she was right, they really _did_ need to get _that_ finished before their baby arrived-because of sanding dust-he dreaded having to take on the project at the moment. All things considering. He was working a lot, she was working a lot, he was under a lot of pressure, some things were going on at the hospital, and dear _God_ did he need some 'me' time.

He just wanted his damn weekends. But, getting that stuff done made her happy. If she was happy, he was happy. It was weird how that worked, but it was true.

"I know, I know. But, I was thinking tonight though, if you're feeling up to it, we could go to the baseball game."

Helga raised her eyebrow at him, a playful smirk jumping to her lips, "Tonight huh?"

"Yep."

"You have a lot of faith in us."

Her fiance' laughed, "What are you talking about?"

Helga pulled her legs up in the chair and leaned against the arm rest, twisting her body to halfway face him, "Here's how I see this going: No matter how much of a sour puss you are about the floor, we're going to get sucked into the hardwood thing today, just admit it. Then later on, were going to be getting ready to go to that game, but lets face it, we'll probably end up having sex, but then we'll lay in bed for an hour watching hardwood install videos on youtube...definitely have sex again cause, you know...its _us..._ finally say, fuck the game, go get take out, watch two hours worth of HGTV, and have some night cap sex before bed."

He was laughing so hard he'd managed to spill a little coffee in his lap, "Nooooo. We've never watched _that_ much HGTV in one sitting. Everything else, yeah, pretty spot on."

"What can I say, we're creatures of habit," She shrugged but laughed as well, "But, yeah, if I'm not feeling too crappy later, and you can _manage_ to get us out the door, then sure, lets go."

"Alright, fair enough."

She sat back in her patio chair, they both staring out at the woods, both wondering what their two dogs were up to in there.

Arnold was finally the first to speak again, "I didn't have a chance to tell you last night but, Monica, the head nurse on my floor, is still missing."

"Really?" She again turned towards him.

He nodded, "Nobody has heard from her in two days now."

Helga frowned, "Has anybody gone to her house to check?" Seemed obvious but, one could never know.

"Yeah, a couple of the other nurses did. Nothing. She's not there."

"How long until she's considered a missing person?"

Arnold shrugged, "I really don't know. I would think by now."

"Yeah, no kidding. I hope nothing bad has happened."

"Yeah..."

Helga finished her coffee and stood up from her patio chair, "Jack! Rory!" She called down to the yard where their dogs had since emerged from the woods and were running around in circles, one biting at the other, "I swear, if I could put them both in time out, I would."

Arnold snorted, "Do it." Neither he nor Helga had ever fancied themselves as being much of animal people, much less _dog_ people. They would have been perfectly content never having any animals. But on a weekend getaway to her parents cabin in the mountains, they'd stumbled upon two beagle puppies wandering around at a gas station, and couldn't just leave them there. Fast forward two years and now they had two fully grown and fully rambunctious boys who insisted on sleeping right on top of Helga whenever they sneaked up to the bed, and fighting like human children every chance they got. Oh, and they'd become dog people. _Ha!_ "Want me to make us some pancakes?" He then asked, finally pulling himself from his own chair.

Helga shrugged, but nodded. She doubted she'd be able to stomach much, but she liked the thought, "Yeah, if you want," Rory and Jack came scampering onto the patio, Jack chomping at Rory, who was protectively hoarding something in his jaws. She took notice, attempting to grab him before he ran from her, knowing he was in trouble.

"Arnold, he's got something in his mouth," Helga pointed to him as he laid down near their chairs and began steadfastly gnawing away at the something.

"Rory," Arnold began scolding, walking over and grabbing the dog by the scruff and forcing the hard, round object out of his mouth, much to the animal's disappointment. He looked at it, Helga leaning in, giving it a intrigued inspection.

"Is that a bone?" She finally asked. It was so chewed up that it was hard to identify it as anything other than a hard, round-ish...something-or-another.

"Yeah," He quickly confirmed, "Probably a deer vertebrae," He looked off, his face awash with new concern as he gazed into the woods, "How about you go get the griddle warmed up. I'm going to go look and see if I see anymore laying around," When Helga gave him a somewhat strange and 'why bother' look, he clarified with, "They could choke on this."

Alright, so that made sense, agreeing with him as she too wasn't eager to be making any emergency vet visits that day. She ushered their 'sons' into the house, and fed them before flipping the gas burner on the stove and putting their giant cast iron pancake griddle on top to heat up. Arnold came walking in not long after, tossing the bone in the trash and flipping the faucet to wash his hands, "I didn't see anything. Who knows where they got it from," He scrubbed up and dried off.

"No telling. The deer are everywhere back there."

Arnold threw together his famous pancake batter and within a 20 min they were sitting down at their kitchen table, digging into several stacks of fluffy, buttermilk and syrupy heaven on earth.

Well, he was digging, Helga was steadfastly nibbling on her mound, wishing desperately to down them, but still feeling w _ay_ too nauseated to attempt such a task. She glanced back at the wall clock, surprised to see that it was almost mid-morning, " _Crap._ I forgot that I have an appointment to get my oil changed in like...30 minutes," She announced, throwing her napkin on her mostly uneaten food as she stood from the table.

Arnold finished chewing and swallowed, "Want me to take it?"

Helga leaned against the counter where she'd just cleared her plate into the trash, "No, it's fine." turning, she rinsed it in the sink and then stuck it in the dishwasher below.

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing how she could be sometimes.

Helga turned back around and smirked at him, "I've got it. Seriously, go catch a few more 'Z's' or something," She breezed over and kissed him, "You look like death," She playfully teased and kissed him again.

Arnold gave her a slightly smirking, but deadpanned look, "Thanks. You're full of the best compliments," He replied. By that point she had walked over to the door leading into their garage and grabbed her keys from the wall hanger. "I'll see you in a bit. Love you forever. Not maybe," She called the last bit in a very sing-songy voice as she walked out.

"Love you!"

* * *

Helga pulled into the dealership with 10 minutes to spare, parking and somewhat dragging her feet into the service center. When she walked in, there were two people waiting and a man at the counter, hopefully getting his car to leave at that moment. She had an appointment time, but it always seemed like they could never be on _time_ with them.

He was tall, black hair curling out slightly underneath his ball cap, with skin that looked like he had no trouble with tanning. She couldn't see his face, but as she was standing there, browsing shit on her phone, she realized he smelled _very_ familiar to her.

 _Intimately_ familiar. It was weird how senses worked that way. One could go for years without hearing a certain noise, or smelling a certain scent, but recognize it the minute it reintroduced itself. Like still knowing the words to a song one hadn't heard since middle school, or smelling the mix of laundry and aftershave of an former flame.

She overheard the service guy walk back up to the counter and announce, "Alright, Mr. Kirk, your truck is ready," Her head shot up as she heard his name and a set of keys clatter down on the formica counter top.

"Thanks," The man replied back, pocketing them.

"See you in five thousand."

The dark haired guy gave the employee a tight smile, a curt nod and turned, nearly running into Helga, who, for her part, had quickly pocketed her phone and was trying to divert herself away to _not_ be seen. But he still had to tiptoe back from her, and as he was, his chocolate brown eyes grew wide at exactly _who_ was standing behind him.

"Helga," He blurted out, almost as if she'd scared him.

She inwardly groaned, starting to burn a little all over, never expecting to run in to _him_ ever again, "Jeremy," She mimicked his surprised response. She had to be bright red by that point. She just knew it.

He began to smile at her, shaking his head in what appeared to be disbelief, as he removed a toothpick from the corner of his mouth and then crossed his arms "Wow...it's been a _hot_ minute."

Helga sort of shifted her jaw around in a circle and smiled up at him, still, to that day, not sure of _what_ to say to him. After all, the last time she'd seen him he'd just busted up in Arnold's dorm and caught the two of them in bed together. That'd certainly leave one at a loss of words. No matter how much time passed.

And she hadn't spoken to him since that night.

And...absolutely _refusing_ to start thinking about _it_ in that moment, she had forced herself to put on a smile, gaining her composure with a nod, "Yeah, it's been awhile," She agreed, "How are you? What have you been up to?" She felt like a jackass for _even_ asking.

"I've been good. Been busy. I'm a detective for Hillwood PD now."

"Ah, look at you."

"Yeah. Brian...or you call him Brainy I think? He is my blood spat guy down there and Sid Moretti is my partner. Small world right?"

"Very," She raised her brows in surprise, "They both were...characters," Thinking of nothing better to reply with. She hated small, void filling chatter anyway. And she _really_ wanted out of this situation.

He nodded, "Sid's a nut. So, how about you? What have you been doing?"

Helga shrugged. Fantastic, it was her turn to share pointless facts about her life that she knew he didn't really care about, "Just life you know. Running my own commercial inspection business now."

He smiled, putting the toothpick back in his mouth, and raising his left 'chipped brow'. She remembered the car wreck he'd gotten that from, junior year of high school, "Running the show now huh? Nice. So, you and Arnold still..." He trailed off, obviously fishing for her to fill in his blank.

"Um, yeah...getting married in a month, expecting a baby..." She herself trailed off this time, realizing that she'd just absently rattled off all of her and Arnold's current joys in life. And now _thoroughly_ feeling like a _real_ jackass about it too. _You mean still with the guy I was sleeping with behind your back for a time? Yes! As a matter of fact, I am. Oh, and check this out: He put a ring on it last year, and finally managed to knock me up too._ Might as well have said that. _God_ , she could be _such_ a tool. A simple, 'yeah' would have been more than enough. But oh no. Nope, she had to rattle off _everything._ She really felt her jackassery when she saw his lips downturn into a very faint scowl that he quickly tried to hide with the thinnest smile.

Though, she really didn't know why she even cared anymore, or why she was still worried about his feelings. They hadn't spoken for five and half years and would continue _not_ to speak after that God awful encounter passed by. But yet, to that day, standing there and staring at him, she _still_ felt the faintest pang of guilt about how she had done him.

Jeremy was a nice guy. He hadn't deserved what she'd done to him. In the end, it really had been matters of the heart, but she could have gone about it much more tactfully than she had. There had been _no_ excuse for it. And yet, she'd never apologized, never had tried to reach out to him after that night, and really, had secretly hoped she'd never have to face him, or run into him ever again.

Something she'd been doing pretty well at until that day.

He finally cleared his throat, "Wow...congratulations," He told her pretty flatly.

"Thanks."

He smiled tightly at her again and twirled his keys around in his hand, "Well, it was good seeing you again," He moved around her a bit, obviously ready to leave. She was ready for him to leave too.

"Yeah, you too."

"Take care of yourself," He said before walking off to the doors and exiting. Helga turned and walked up to the counter, more relieved than she should have been about that encounter being over.

She gazed out through the lobby glass, into the parking lot, seeing him climb into his red truck and drive off. Jeez, she really didn't feel like reliving that crap today.

Luckily, her time at the dealership was short lived, and she herself was soon receiving her keys back and walking back out to her work SUV. Having not eaten much breakfast, she had started feeling the slow burn of hunger pains, and her stomach was feeling sturdy enough to hold some more food at that point. She grabbed herself the blandest bagel imaginable and a decaf tea from a local coffee house before deciding to go ahead and knock out some grocery shopping while she was Arnold free. A rarity, and a luxury. She could shop in peace and spend _half_ the time they normally would and actually get crap they needed.

* * *

So, after an afternoon spent deciding between floors they wanted, they had managed to make it to the baseball game, with only a few parts of Helga's prediction coming true. They _had_ gotten caught up in a little pre-game quickie, but Arnold had managed to corral them out the door before anymore of her prophecy could come to fruition.

Though she had sat in the car, youtubing floor installation videos on the drive to the stadium. They had made it to about inning six when they both mutually decided they were done and ready to call it a night. The game was a home team loser for the series anyway. When they got home, Arnold took the dogs out, insistent of continuing his search for spare bones that they could choke on while he was out there. Helga let him have at it, choosing to draw herself a bath and getting pretty comfortable in it's bubbly hotness. Melting into the relaxation the liquid lavender brought her, only wishing that she could be sipping a nice glass of red wine as she read her book. Wine and a good book, they really were a dynamic duo, especially on a bath bomb night.

Some time later, her blonde companion pushed open the bathroom door. She cast him a smile, which he returned as she looked back to her book.

"You're going to prune up in there," He picked at her, as he walked over to the tub and sat down on the rug in front of it, draping his arm over and running his fingers up her leg to her knee.

She again looked up from her book and smirked, "You don't find prunes sexy?"

Arnold chuckled with a grin, "Only you. Hey, guess what? thirty-five days from today we're going to be sitting on a beach in Belize; sipping cocktails as Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Shortman."

"You excited yet?" She was full on smiling now, setting her book down, "And you'll be the only one sipping a cocktail on that beach."

"Girl, I would have taken you down to the court house already if you'd let me but..." He feigned an eye roll, along with a fake sigh, " _Clearly_ that wouldn't fly with you, so I have to wait thirty-five more days. And you're correct, I suppose I will be the _only_ one partaking in the gratuitous amounts of alcohol available."

"I am a _little_ bummed. I was actually starting to like the idea of possibly drinking my weight in rum while there."

That would have been a sight to see. In their almost six years together, he'd only seen her get drunk once. And he would admit, he been really looking forward to possibly seeing her cut loose again while they were in a vacation mecca. It was what it was, and neither one could even _think_ about wanting to change the circumstances. "Well, I think that having our baby is way better than 120lbs of rum though." He winked at her.

Helga curled her legs up under her and leaned over the tub, giving him a kiss, "I do too. It's been a _long_ year."

He kissed her back, smiling, "Incredibly. Any longer and the man in me probably would have broken down and just snapped." _  
_

She giggled, "Snapped? And done what? At most I _probably_ would have _eventually_ let my doctor put me on the Clomid and hoped to _God_ we didn't have triplets. But I'm curious about _your_ plan now."

"Probably brought another dog home and resigned myself to the idea of us being pet parents _only._ "

Helga rolled her eyes, still grinning, "Ugh, I would have smothered you in your sleep with a beagle."

"Wow...harsh," He chuckled quietly before giving her a mildly bashful look and admitting, "Seriously, there is something _entirely_ ball crushing about _not_ being able to get your girl pregnant quickly."

"Hey, I told you."

"I know you did."

"Imagine being my parents. It took them three years to have my sister and five years to have me."

Arnold shook his head, "God bless their determination. Without it, you wouldn't be here," They both laughed, "But man, I just don't think I would have had it in me."

Helga snorted, and gave him an absurd look, "You act like if we hadn't been _trying_ to have a baby we wouldn't have had sex _nearly_ as much as we have. And we both know _that's_ not the case," She laughed and pointed at herself, "Baby on board. Still fucking like rabbits."

He grinned at her, "Alright. Keep it up and I'm going to come in there and do some more bad things to you tonight."

She kissed him, "Oh, I thought you'd _never_ threaten," At that time his phone started ringing from where he had sat it on their vanity. He scooted over and snatched it up, bringing it to his ear.

"Hello? Hey...uh..." He looked back at Helga, who had settled back into the tub, stretching out, "Yeah, I can. If you need me. No, no problem. Really, I understand. Alright...be there in a bit." He hung up the phone and sighed.

"Hospital?" She asked.

"Yeah, I've got to go in tonight. We're shorthanded as crap."

* * *

It was early, early in the morning when Rory and Jack started whining in their crates, jarring Helga awake with their high pitched yelps. They wanted to go out, and while she was pissed about being disturbed, it was her own fault for not letting them out one last time before she went to bed. She pulled herself out of bed, half asleep still, zombe-ing over and letting them out before opening the bedroom door for them to run into the hallway.

They all made it downstairs where she let the slip into the back yard while she went and sat down on the couch and dozed for a bit, waiting for them to come back to the sliding door. She didn't know how long she cat napped before the scratching of little paws re-woke her. When she let them in, she noticed that, once again, one was fighting the other, and she figured, one of them had found another damn bone. She couldn't even tell which one it was in the dark, but she scooped him up, "Give it here...give it _here!_ " She demanded and the dog finally released the item into her awaiting hand.

She sat him back down and marched to the kitchen, preparing to throw it in the trashcan when she noticed it had a very peculiar feeling in her hand. So, feeling a little more alert by then, she decided to flip on the kitchen light before canning it just to...well, see exactly what it was. When the shadows of dark disappeared and she finally got a good look at what she was _actually_ holding, she dropped it on the counter in absolute _horror._ "Oh my God!" She scooted as far away from it as she could, "Oh God..." She breathed again, starting to feel very nauseated.

What should she do? She had to get the police out there. Was she sure that that was what it was? _Yes_. Yes _absolutely_. There was no doubt in her mind. She scooted over and grabbed their house phone off of the dock and called it in, telling the operator exactly what she was one hundred percent sure it was.

When they had promised to send somebody out right away, she hung up and dialed Arnold's cell number, hoping desperately that he would be available to pick up, and breathing a sigh of relief when she heard his panicked voice say, " _Helga, everything okay?"_ He knew she shouldn't even be awake, much less calling him up that early. Something was majorly wrong.

"No, everything is _not_ okay!"

 _"What-what's wrong? Are you okay? Oh no...no, no you're not...Jesus you're miscar—"_

"No! I'm fine! I just...I let the dogs out this morning and they brought a bone in the house, and it's...it's _human!_ It's a human jaw bone, Arnold! The police are coming out to do...something. They brought it out of our _woods!_ "

 _"You called the police? Sweetheart I'm sure it's just another deer bone—"_

"No deer bone _looks_ like this!" She snapped back, "I get that I'm not a damn doctor, but Arnold, it's got silver— _fucking—_ fillings in the molars!"

There was a brief pause on the other end before he sighed and said, _"Okay...I'll be home as soon as I can."_

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh, now that you're comfortable...*Takes steering wheel, cuts it all the way to the left. Veers off the road* Those woods though?!

Alright, so, just like first chapter, when I _totally_ I had Fright Night in my head, this chapter I totally had a song stuck in my head for their proposal. Massive Effect's - (exchange). Take a listen if you want some mood music. Lol.

Also- Sorry (not sorry) about the cliffy?


	4. He said to be cool, but I don't know how

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Hey, hey hey. See that wasn't too long to wait on a cliffhanger ending. I'm not _that_ cruel. Some fun (not fun) stuff in this one. Some straight up dude talk so...there's a couple coarse conversations in here. Poor Helga right? What a rough morning! Anyway, onward we go!

* * *

 **He said to be cool.  
**

 **But I don't know how yet.**

"Yeah, that looks human," The balding police officer named Ted said as held the jaw bone in a gloved hand, turning it in the light the kitchen. Helga stood to the side, arms tightly crossed, wanting desperately for Arnold to hurry up and be home already. "They brought it out of the woods?" He sat it back down on the counter, she really wishing he hadn't, because she wanted the thing out of her house and definitely _off_ of her counter top.

"Yeah, when I let them out this morning. I'm assuming the woods. They brought another one out of there yesterday morning."

Ted's brows shifted, "Do you still have that one?"

Helga shook her head, "Uh no, we uh...we trashed it. My fiancee' assumed it was a deer vertebrae."

The officer nodded, "Alright. Well, we will get some people out there and do a walk through with the K9's and see what we can find, and then run a dental record check on this. See if it matches anybody in the missing persons database. Its _possible_ that it could be something from an old local grave. We've had a lot of rain and wash this year, things come up, animals travel, so, I don't want you automatically _thinking_ the worst here, because it may not be the case at all."

Helga distractedly nodded, "Right...yeah." She just couldn't stop staring at _it._ "Let's hope."

He offered her a friendly, understanding smile, "Either way, it's a hell of a way to start the morning."

"Isn't it though," She agreed. Afterwards he returned to his car to radio in what all was needed out there and she walked back into the living area, refusing to stay in the room with that _thing_ on the counter one minute longer. She had the desire to go call Phoebe, just to have somebody to talk to until Arnold got home, but she didn't want to go disturbing her best friend early on a Sunday morning. Her nerves were _so_ on edge though. The whole thing was so disturbing. Even if it turned out to be something perfectly harmless, like a washed local grave, that bone had at one time belonged to a person. A _person!_ A person who was walking, talking and covered in flesh, with feelings and probably a circle of people who cared about them.

And now it was sitting on her kitchen counter, like a discarded piece of trash. She wanted to burn that room down now. How could she ever get past seeing that anytime she was in there from then on?

 _How?_

She sat down on the couch, her realization giving her a hard shudder in her core. How could she ever _look_ at those woods the same way ever again either. The whole thing made her want to go out and have the biggest privacy fence ever built to surround their backyard so the dogs could never roam through there another day. She sat there for a little while, petting Rory and Jack before she heard their kitchen door open and shut hastily.

"Helga!"

"Arnold..." She breathed and jumped from the couch just in time to see him briskly enter the living room, face shadowed by exhaustion and concern.

"What's going on? What are they doing?" He immediately asked, "I saw the officer sitting in his car."

"He said they're going run dental records on it, and do a walk through in the woods with their dogs to see what the they find."

Arnold nodded, "Alright."

"And it's possible that because of the rain fall this year, it could have washed up from an old local grave and been picked up by animals and ended up back there," She relayed to him, hoping for the best at that point. Maybe if she talked about it, it would be so.

"Right."

"He left it on the kitchen counter," She looked past him and he turned and followed her stare, walking back in the kitchen to take a peak at the offensive thing that was causing such distress. He scowled as he stared at it, reaching down and running the pad of his thumb over the fillings she had agonized about over the phone.

She didn't even know _how_ he could _possibly_ touch it, willingly, though she supposed he'd seen _much_ worse, and she had to remind herself that he _wasn't_ queasy about such anatomic things.

"Yeah," He admitted, "It's human alright," When he realized that she had not followed him, and appeared to show _no_ interest at all in _ever_ joining him there, he returned to the living room and pulled her into a hug. "It's going to be alright. I'm sorry you had to deal with something like this."

"It's just so...creepy," She pressed the side of her head into his chest, "They can't go back in those woods anymore."

"I agree. We'll...get an invisible fence for them or something," After a moment more, he led them back to the couch, where they sat in mostly silence, him drumming his fingers lightly on the armrest while they waited to hear something. It seemed like forever, before they heard a knock and their front door open, several voices floating through.

"Ms. Pataki," She heard Ted call as he walked into view, both of them standing up as he gave Arnold a nod, "Mr. Shortman?" He asked and the blonde nodded. "We're going to get the bone bagged up," He thumbed towards the kitchen, where another officer had walked, "And they are bringing two dogs around now to run through the woods."

"How long does that usually take?" Arnold inquired.

"Depends on what they find. If you two just want to sit tight. Hopefully we can get this resolved and get out of your hair." Rory and Jack suddenly bounced to the back glass and started going berserk seeing a pair of German shepherds on very long leashes leading their handlers into the wooded chasm.

Arnold snapped his head towards them, "Come on guys! It's just a dog." They acted like that hadn't been scolded and kept on with their high pitched whines and barks.

"Take them upstairs," Helga suggested, not feeling like listening to that racket one minute longer. He walked over, scooping one up in each arm and hauled the pair upstairs, crating them in their bedroom and shutting the door behind him for good measure.

When he returned down stairs, Helga was staring out the back glass. She was starting to feel sick as an all too familiar bout of morning sickness began to creep up. It wasn't entirely that though. She felt a wicked sense of dread pooling in the pit of her stomach and what those dogs might find. Her mind raced with the possibilities.

* * *

That phone of his seemed to never stop ringing. Day in and day out. And it being a Sunday morning didn't change that either. Such was the life of a detective in a mid-sized city. Still, she wished she didn't have to hear it.

"Sid... _Sid..._ Sid- _ney!_ Oh for crying out loud..." Rhonda huffed and rolled from her side of the bed, grabbing her pillow and smacking her husband in the head with it, "Answer your phone!" Sid grumbled, but reached out to his bedside table, fumbled for his cell and dragged it back to his ear.

"Yeah? Alright, I'm coming," He confirmed before tossing the phone back and slowly sitting up in bed, dragging both his hands through his wild hair before sliding out of the covers. He spent the next few minutes waking up, the typical morning routines, though, he didn't feel like shaving that morning, so he wasn't. In his closet, he began pulling on one of his many long sleeved dress shirts, covering his tattoo obsession that had begun in his teens, his slacks, his tie. He grabbed his badge and phone from the night stand, gave his wife a quick kiss, an 'I love you' and was gone.

By the time he pulled his cruiser down the driveway of the house they'd been called to, his partner was already there, leaning against his own car, twirling his toothpick around the inside of his mouth. Sid parked the car and stepped out, Jeremy giving him a smirk as he pushed off of his vehicle, "About time you showed up."

"Ain't no rest for the wicked. That's for sure," Sid chuckled, still shaking sleep.

Jeremy thumbed away, "The officer's said we can just go on around the house. The good stuff is in the woods."

"It's what I hear." The pair strolled around the house side of the house, giving it a few glances, Sid remarking, "Pretty nice digs." They walked across the back yard.

"Rhonda slug you with a pillow this morning?" Jeremy snickered.

Sid side eyed his partner, and best friend for a few years by then with a smirk and replied with, "I'm beginning to think she likes doing it. How did your date go last night?"

Jeremy snorted, "A whole evening of my life I'll never get back."

"Did you at least get laid to make it all worth it?" His partner laughed.

"Hell _no._ She had those clingy type vibes. You poke a girl like that _once_ , and she won't leave you alone for six months. I don't need that in my life." Sid just laughed at him. When they made it to the edge of the woods, they were greeted by an officer who assured them there was _plenty_ to go see. When they neared the back of the property, they saw two more officers in a small clearing that was tapped off, with little flags stuck everywhere.

"What have we got here? A shallow grave?" Sid asked, ducking under the tape and pulling a pair of black gloves out of his pocket, fisting them on.

"Looks like it." One of the officers replied.

Both Sid and Jeremy had squatted down and were intently peering at the disturbance of remains scattered in a divet with pieces of a dry rotted tarp splintering through the debris. "It obviously wasn't very deep, but it's been here for a little bit."

Jeremy reached into his pocket and retrieved a pen, which he used to give the skull a poke to roll it over, scowling at what he saw, "I thought they said the home owner found a jaw bone?" He said, staring at a lower jaw bone lodged in the foliage.

"She did."

"There might be the top of another skull underneath, right over _there,_ " Sid pointed.

Jeremy shifted over, reaching out with his pen and flicking some of the dirt away, revealing an eye socket. "Yep. Two sets of remains...at least, it looks like here." He shook the pen off and stood up, "So, what about the dogs? They found other shallow graves?"

"They pinged at least seven other spots throughout the woods. This is the only disturbed site that we could find."

Sid stood up, frowning and peering around through the forest. "Sounds like we have a killing field here."

Crossing his arms, Jeremy continued to look at the remains at his feet, "I'm betting that several of these are our missing girls," He speculated before glancing over at his partner.

Sid looked back at him, "No doubt."

"Which means Hillwood has its very first serial killer." Jeremy removed his toothpick and began chewing on the tip, "Dude, I think of all the things that we've seen, this is the eeriest."

Sid shook his head a few times, "This is one sick puppy."

"Detective Kirk! Detective Moretti!"

Both of the men turned around to see a third officer stomping through the brush towards them, "The dogs found a spot by the house. You want to come take a look?"

"By the house?" Sid elevated an eyebrow.

"Right on the top of the patio area. The whole thing. We practically had to drag them off of there."

"Alright, we'll be there in a second."

The officer nodded and disappeared back into woods from which he came. Sid turned back to Jeremy and shrugged, "Well, this is doing loads for this poor saps property value, that's for sure."

Jeremy shook his head, replacing his toothpick between his cheek and gum, "Hillwood's most notorious haunted house too."

The two marched back out of the woods, passing by at least one sectioned off area that was a suspected shallow grave site. Both were admittedly more observant of their surroundings on the way out than they had been on the way in. When they reached the forests edge they stopped, looking down the line, seeing what else they could spot that possibly hadn't been spotted.

Jeremy was still looking around at the woods when he heard his partner say, "Whoa, whoa..." As Sid had peered across the yard, he recognized two figures standing just by the house.

"What?" Jeremy asked, but not bothering to look.

"Is that Helga Pataki? This is _her_ house?"

Jeremy turned, glanced at Sid and then across the long expanse of yard to indeed see her _and_ Arnold standing on the back patio, talking to an officer, " _Wow..._ " He raised his eyebrow, spinning his toothpick with his tongue.

"Boy Howdy," Sid grinned mockingly at him. Not being able to resist giving his friend a hard time, he continued with, " _And_ Arnold. Remember him? The guy whose dick game was so good she forgot you existed and then forgot to break up with you too." Jeremy struck out and knuckle punched him in the arm lightning fast, Sid just coolly stepping away as he chuckled, "Has Brian ever told you what it was like when she moved in with them?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes, "No."

"He said it was a _nightmare_ to listen to. Dude would just straight tear her _up_ constantly."

Jeremy shot him one last look, really thinning his deep brown eyes at him, "I'm glad my misfortune has been such a topic of conversation for you two," He dully remarked, but then smirked at him, "But you wont be laughing at my game this Friday when you find me balls deep in Rhonda. Touching places you haven't _ever_ reached."

"You sorry sack of shit," Sid faked some outrage as Jeremy chuckled. "Alright, lets go deliver some bad news," He then said and the pair began to close the distance between them and the unsuspecting homeowners.

"So this is the first time you've seen her since you broke up huh?"

"I actually ran into her yesterday getting my oil changed."

"Oh, that had to be weird. But not quite as much as this."

Jeremy chortled a bit, "I had no idea she was even still with him. Surprising I guess."

"Really?"

"It's not like I've kept up with her. Apparently she's doing pretty well with her own business. Her and doctor _douche_ there are tying the knot, and she's pregnant too."

"Boy, you learned _all_ that at an oil change?" Sid side eyed him with a smirk. "Must have been quite the pleasant conversation."

"She had _no_ problem sharing all that with me. Almost like she was rubbing it in."

Sid snorted, "And you don't sound bitter about it or anything. _Nope._ "

Jeremy gave him a 'get real' look, "Please. She hasn't crossed my mind in a _long_ time. But that doesn't make him any less of a douche bag and her any less of a...they deserve one another."

Sid nodded, still chuckling to himself, "I get it, man. I do."

The two ceased talking as they neared the patio and stepped up onto it. "Wow, I've seen you more in two days than I have in six years," Jeremy walked up, choosing to speak first to Helga while giving Arnold the briefest of looks. The blonde's head snapped down at his fiance', a question looming in his eyes as he looked back at the detectives.

Helga sighed, mostly out of annoyance, "I bumped into him at the dealership," She clarified, crossing her arms.

"How's it going Arnold, Helga?" Sid said, much more friendly. "It's been awhile."

Arnold popped his head at him, "A little..." He clearly wasn't in a chatty mood, but he didn't _appear_ unfriendly in anyway. Sid thought that he looked like he was running on some terribly depleted batteries if anything.

Helga at least gave him a _hint_ of a smile, "Hey, Sid." But whatever, he got it. This was not something anybody would _want_ to be dealing with. Ever.

Jeremy smiled at the two before clearing his throat. "Alright, so, let me explain how this works and why Sid and I are out here now. Our dogs sit whenever they've smelt decomposition. They've identified seven different spots and we've found a skeletal bed that we _think_ the bone your dogs brought you _may_ have come from. Our dogs also sat at your patio here, which mean, we may have to remove it to get below."

"Jesus Christ..." Arnold rolled his eyes and looked up before fixing Jeremy with a hard look, "Do you even _know_ if those other seven spots _are_ bodies."

"We're going to start excavating as soon as possible," Sid answered.

Arnold slipped his gaze to him, cocking a brow in question, "So you _don't_ know then."

"Technically no. Not before we dig," Sid admitted.

"How accurate are these dogs anyway?" Arnold then crossed his arms, now thoroughly scowling at him.

But this time Jeremy butted in again, "Pretty accurate. Why does it matter?"

The blonde rolled his eyes, again glancing off before giving the dude another narrowed look, "I don't want you tearing up my patio, only to find out that they're smelling a damn...deer carcass down there."

The dark brunette laughed a little, shaking his head and then removing his tooth pick and pointing it at Arnold condescendingly, "I'm tearing it up, whether _you_ like it or not."

Arnold sharply inhaled, his jaw flexing a bit as he felt himself puff up a little at the detective. "Don't you need a warrant or something before you start _destroying_ other people's property like that?" He heatedly gestured to the ground.

Helga quickly realized, this was probably going a little beyond destruction of property, and she needed to nip that residual personal feeling of his in the bud and fast. Arnold wasn't a hot head, nor was he the confrontational type, but Jeremy hadn't left a good taste in his mouth many, many moons ago, and he'd certainly never had anything positive to say about him afterwards. No matter how solid and lovable of a guy he was. And it was _no_ surprise that the feeling was still mutual for Jeremy, who appeared in no mood to be diplomatic about the problem or remotely understanding of their frustration, "Babe, it is what it is. Just let them do their job," She said, wrapping her hand around his arm, shooting Jeremy and Sid her own weary and displeased look.

Jeremy sighed, "I've never seen the dogs throw a false positive. This is a lot to process, and I understand that its _hard_ to accept, but your property _may_ be a dumping zone for a serial killer."

Helga felt sick, but Arnold seemed to not have been effected one bit as he continued to stand there, throwing them both, but mostly Jeremy, an inconvenienced look, "I'll be sure to bill _you_ for the replacement," He finally smarted back at her ex, shaking his head and then walking off towards the house, Helga sparing them one last apologetic glance before scooting off after him.

Sid looked over at his partner the minute the door clicked, "Well, _that_ went well."

Jeremy popped his head at the door, perching one hand on his hip, pointing to the door with the other, "Dude can sit and spin for all I care. This patio is coming up," He then pointed to it and walked off.

* * *

" _Seriously?_ " She asked after she had closed the door behind them. Arnold didn't respond he just continued to walk away, "You know what? I've had to try, _really_ hard to keep it together today, because I am hormonal as _hell._ And crimeny, the last thing I want to listen to is you pick a petty fight with _him_ when they're telling us that a serial killer might be using our _woods_ as a Goddamn _graveyard!_ "

Arnold finally turned around, planting his hands on his hips, eyes cast to the floor, "I know..." He let out a tired sigh and ran one of his hands through his newly disheveled hair, "Sorry...I'm sorry. I am just...so tired and so stressed and all of this going on is just... _unbelievable._ " And she suddenly felt badly about scolding him. In the tornado of events that had kicked off in the early A.M., shelved completely was the fact that he _had_ just worked all night in the E.R., after having been awake all day, and now it was going on mid-afternoon. Of _course_ he was cranky and short fused. _  
_

Helga walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, peering up at him, "Why don't you go take a shower and try to get a little sleep." Arnold hugged his arms around her and kissed her forehead out of habit.

" _Yeah._ I'm going to go upstairs and get some _great_ rest..." He grumbled and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"If you aren't going to go to sleep. Promise me you aren't going to be a tool if _he_ comes back around to drop _more_ bad news on us."

Arnold sighed, "I wont." He pulled away, guiding them away to sit on the couch. "You didn't tell me you ran into him yesterday."

She quirked her brow as she propped her elbow up on the arm rest and rested her head on a loose fist, "We were so busy that I forgot. It was the most awkward thing on the planet, and jackass me proceeds to overshare how wonderful everything is for us." Arnold chuckled lowly before throwing his legs up on the couch and laying his head in her awaiting lap, "Obviously I was expecting to get back to never seeing him again."

"I'm sure the feeling is mutual," He smiled slightly and rested his eyes.

She sighed, "Oh Arnold, what are we suppose to do now?" She asked, now looking out the back sliding door again.

"About what?"

"All of this going on. We can't stay here now."

He opened his eyes, "We can go to a hotel a little later."

"No I mean. How are we _ever_ suppose to live here _normally_ again. What if they _do_ find something under the patio? What if there are bodies under our house or something?" She wanted to berate him for being so calm about the situation, again having to remind herself that he was tired. Her mind was running a million miles a second and he was trying to nap in her lap. It was _beyond_ frustrating to her.

"Can we cross that bridge when we get there? I don't even want to have to _think_ about it right now."

"I don't know how you _can't_ think about it _now._ "

"Sweetheart..." Arnold groaned and rubbed his palms into his eyes, " _Please_..."

"Fine...crimeny..."

* * *

By nightfall, they had officially vacated their house. The police didn't want them there as they started the excavation, nor did Helga _want_ to be there, and after Arnold and Jeremy had gotten into a second dispute about the damn patio, he had basically told them to scram. Helga had been livid at her fiancee' and was very relieved to be in a hotel and for him to be out like a light in the bed. When she walked out of the bathroom, drying her hair in a towel, she saw him laying on his stomach, arms tucked underneath his pillow, some very light snores emanating from his slightly a gap mouth. Their dogs were happily laying on the other bed, and they could stay there. She didn't feel like dealing with them either.

After all, she partially blamed them for this nightmare, though it really _wasn't_ their fault.

God she was just so _burnt out_ by that day.

She rummaged through her duffle bag on the table and pulled on a tee-shirt and a pair of underwear before she climbed in next to him. She had a freakin' busy ass day ahead of her too, and she knew it was going to be _even_ longer because it would be _especially_ impossible for her to sleep _well_ in a bed that wasn't hers. And that was if she didn't have a row of sick sickness crop up too. With a sigh, she slide her phone off the bedside, illuminating the screen only to see a missed call from Phoebe, which she immediately swiped right to return.

She had gotten into a brief text message conversation with her before they'd gotten settled into the hotel and she'd opted to go take a shower.

 _"Helga, hey!"_ she sounded as if she'd rushed to grab her phone.

"Hey."

 _"Sorry, that was a little too much to process via text message."_

"I know. We were just in a rush, I didn't have time to sit on the phone for a minute."

 _"So let me get this straight. The police have found...bodies in your woods?"_

"At least two, so far. We don't know how many more," Saying it made her start feeling sick again. "If any..."

 _"Oh my..."_

"They are tearing up our patio because they think there might be one underneath it too, and..." Helga exhaled a depleted sigh, "I...I don't even know what to think at this point Pheebs..."

 _"Yeah, I...don't really know what to think about it either. It's...hard to believe."_ Phoebe agreed, sounding just as mystified as Helga was, "You _guys love that place."_

"I know...and...at the risk of sounding _incredibly_ self absorbed, some psycho _ruined_ it."

 _"No, I know what you mean by it. And to think, that psycho is likely running around in Hillwood somewhere,"_ Phoebe's voice was very hollow as she spoke, almost as if she'd just realized that cold hard reality. There was a serial killer still on the loose in Hillwood. _"Are you guys staying there? Do you want to come stay with us instead?"_

"Uh, we're in a hotel now. It's probably only for a few days," The last thing Helga wanted was to be a burden on anybody.

She heard Phoebe sigh, _"Helga. Seriously. We have that extra room. You two are more than welcome to stay here."_

"I know, and if this drags on, we'll consider it. I don't want to come barging in on you and Gerald, but I appreciate it."

 _"You're never barging in."_ Phoebe reminded her, " _How are you feeling these days, everything else aside?"_

Helga groaned, " _Ugh._..about the same. I just...so desperately want to feel somewhat _normal_ again."

 _"I wish I could offer some comfort, but I was sick for all of two weeks with Niko. I am clearly not the one to compare notes with."_

"I know. Alright, well, not trying to rush off the phone with you, but I've got a some work to get done before tomorrow."

* * *

 **Four Days Later.**

Nine. Nine was the number of bodies pulled from the Shortman/Pataki woods. Bodies was a nice term. Remains was the more appropriate word for most of what was recovered, and the others could be referred to as a corpse. And keeping with their word, Jeremy and Sid had indeed put in the request to have the concrete ripped up by a state construction crew. They demolished it in a snap, and the forensic crew had taken care of the rest, starting what from an outsiders point a view would look like an archeological dig site.

They didn't have to dig far before shovel tips bumped into more familiar rotted tarps. Two to be exact.

Sid and Jeremy stood by the side, both with their arms perched on their hips, watching their crew carefully begin pulling the two bodies out. Both tarp wrapped and bound with a nylon rope. Sid shook his head, "Dogs don't lie."

"No they do not," Jeremy agreed.

* * *

 **Five Days Later.**

And for Helga and Arnold, five days was all it took for the news to hit the local airways. Hillwood wasn't a small town, by any stretch of the imagination, but something like this happening? Eleven bodies being discovered on a single property? There was _no_ way it _wouldn't_ be big news.

Absolutely _impossible_ for it not to make headlines.

They both sat on the edge of the bed, in stunned silence, watching the local nightly news. Watching a reporter feed the story to their audience right outside of their house. Their house! Their house that had been tapped off! And then the helicopter view of their destroyed back patio, now a shallow pit. Helga laid her head in her hands, and Arnold, who had been chewing on the top of his thumb, reached over and rubbed his palm across the expanse of her back soothingly. He didn't say anything, and she figured he really didn't know _what_ to say. Nothing was going to make the situation any _less_ surreal.

Of course this was the first time she was finding out how many had actually been found. They had had no contact with Sid, Jeremy or anybody else at the Hillwood Police Department, basically being told they they'd hear from them, when they heard from them.

How shitty though. To find out via the news-scratch that-via ones mother calling them and saying, 'hey your house is on the news, did you know that?'

Arnold sighed and stood up, walking across their hotel room-that they were _still_ in-and peered out the window, his arms tightly crossed in front of his body. Helga finally pulled her head from her hands and glanced over at him, seeing his ashen face, creased with stress and worry. She felt sorry for him. She was so stressed she felt prickly, but he had _so_ much on his plate with his residency, and now this going on in their personal life. She was afraid for his sanity.

For her part, she had to keep it together. She couldn't afford to allow herself to get too stressed by it all. She had a busy business to continue to run, she had Arnold, who had become so distracted by everything that she couldn't rely on him to _be_ the voice of reason for her anymore, and she had a baby that really needed her to chill out. What was she to do?

"Babe..." She called to him, but he didn't even hear her, "...Arnold." She tried again and this time he turned his head towards her, eyebrows slightly raised.

"Hmm?"

"It's going to be okay," What else _could_ she say? What _else?_

Arnold gave her a single nod, "Yeah..." He replied and went back to staring out the window.

* * *

 **Fourteen Days Later.**

Sid and Jeremy stood in the morgue, staring at the eleven different tables for the eleven different bodies that had been pulled from their temporary shallow graves.

"Well, they are all women, between the ages of 18 - 25, and all strangled to death." The coroner said between them.

"How the hell can you tell? Some of them are nothing but bones." Sid asked and the older chubby man walked over to one of the bodies.

"Everyone of them have a fractured hyoid bone in the neck here," He tapped the neck area. "Your guy has some hand strength. On the two that were not completely decomposed there is bruising pattern on the neck tissue that suggests he used his hands and not a ligature, or suffocation."

"Any other injuries? Signs of sexual assault?" Jeremy asked. "On the two that aren't skeletons at least."

"No injuries and, unfortunately they are all far too gone to determine if sexual assault _did_ occur," Both Jeremy and Sid sighed disappointingly, "We're still going through them all with a fine tooth comb. And you boys will be the first to know if I find even a single hair that doesn't belong."

"Thanks." They both turned and began walking out of the corners lab, Sid looking over at Jeremy, "Hopefully we can get some ID's on these ladies soon."

* * *

 **Nineteen Days Later.**

There was some joy to be had in Helga and Arnold's unbelievable situation. They had a pretty exciting doctors visit looming that had finally arrived and it felt like vacation for her. For a brief moment, she got to stop thinking about what was going on with their house and enjoy the wonders of the little life stitching itself together a little more every day inside of her.

She had an ultrasound appointment. And her little avocado was being quite the mover on screen, though she was bummed she couldn't yet feel a bit of it.

"Any chance at an early but accurate gender guess?" Helga asked, watching the screen as the ultrasound tech roamed around her stomach with the probe. She was impatient and didn't think she could _possibly_ wait until the anatomy scan at 20 weeks. Of course, if not possible, then she had to wait.

The woman smiled cheerily, "Actually, _they_ are in a good spot to tell."

Helga looked up at Arnold who was standing beside her, "You want to know?" She asked. _She_ desperately wanted to know, because she was impatient and she _really_ wanted something positive to think about. Like their impending wedding wasn't or something. She'd _almost_ forgotten about it. That was a little different though. The biggest change from them getting married was her last name. They were already doing all the other married couple things. This was different. And thankfully, he seemed to be in the same boat, looking down at her and cracking a small smile while giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Of course I do."

The tech looked at the both of them before shifting her eyes back to the screen, "Alright well, you've got yourself...a little girl." Helga's free hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Wow, would you look at that," Arnold was chuckling quietly as he peered down at her, "You aren't going to have a house full of nothing but boys anymore." Helga glanced back up at him, beaming proudly, eyes glossing with happy tears.

"A girl..." She repeated in wonderment, before chuckling at his last comment, "She's going to wrap you around her little finger. You watch."

He smiled warmly, "I know she will. And I fully expect to get extorted for a sports car when she hits college too."

"You think she's going to be a mini _me_ then huh?"

"Uh huh," He said, trying not to laugh.

* * *

Jeremy and Sid sat at their connected desks, both running over some routine paperwork when Brainy walked over to their desk leaning against them, "What's up guys."

Sid looked up, but his partner didn't, "The usual."

"Anything come back on all those girls yet?"

His childhood friend sighed, "No, not yet. Seems like everybody is taking their sweet ass time."

"Actually, we're not." An artsy-ish young woman glided up to their desks and slapped a thick pile of folders down on Jeremy's half, "That's eleven freaking sets of teeth to sift through dental records for every missing girl over the last ten years for, _assholes._ "

Jeremy looked up at her and smirked, "Haley...my girl. Is this all of them?" Sid was already reaching across his desk to get his hands on the folders.

Haley rolled her eyes at him, "No. It's nine of the eleven. And if you call me your girl again you're going to be missing an important body part." She warned and then flashed him a quick full teethed smile before saying, "Toodles...losers," and breezing away, leaving Brainy gazing off after her a bit longingly.

"I really need to ask her out..." He muttered, and then turned back around, seeing his co-workers not paying him a bit of attention.

"Brian!" Another detective called across the precinct. "Have you got that blood report yet?"

"Dammit!" He swore. "I'll talk to you guys later."

"Later man," They both said in unison as he walked away.

Sid began opening each folder and reading the names aloud, "Jessica Tolberson, runaway" He said and tossed the open folder to Jeremy, "Marie Styles, prostitute" Toss, "Britney Ross, prostitute" Toss, "Stephanie Peterson, student" Toss, "Amy Fredrick, prostitute" Toss, "Morgan Harris, prostitute" Toss. He grabbed another folder, opened it, went to say the name but stopped and said, "Wait... _what?_ " His eyebrows pulled down into a deep frown, as he flipped the folder around for his partner to see the name and photo.

Jeremy looked up from the other folders in front of him to see the open one in Sid's hand. His eyebrows rose very high onto his forehead as he grabbed his toothpick from his mouth, "Holy shit..."

* * *

Later that night Arnold and Helga were laying in bed, the TV murmuring lightly in the background. She was steadily typing away on her laptop, putting together some reports to submit the next day. He laid there, with one of arms tucked behind his pillow, propping his head, the other absently petting one the their dogs beside him. He was watching the TV but his mind was elsewhere.

Thinking. Thinking about everything. Thinking about how much they both needed to get away. Get out of Hillwood. Get out of the state. Hell, even out of the country. They were headed that way. They were two weeks away from Belize.

But he had other plans, if he could just get her to agree. He _had_ to get her to agree.

Had to.

He turned his head towards her, watching her click away on the keyboard for a moment before asking, "What do you think about going to Mexico?"

Her typing ceased, her eyes flickering over to him in curiosity, "Like after we leave Belize?"

"No. Like...now."

Helga frowned, "Why?"

Her blonde counter part sighed, and ran his free hand over his face, looking back at the TV, "Because I'm burnt out of everything and...thought it might be nice for us to take a nice long vacation on top of our wedding and honeymoon." He looked back at her, his eyes pleading.

She sighed, "Babe, I can't just up and go to Mexico. I've got work to do. Besides, _neither_ can you."

"Yes you can. Have your two employees absorb your work from awhile. You can run everything from a laptop. And yes I can. The hospital has already okayed me to take as much time as I need."

"You already talked to the hospital? How long have you planning this?"

Arnold sighed and sat up, "I just talked to them today about it. I didn't say I was for sure going to take some time off. Come on, we both know that we really need to get away for awhile. With all that's been going on..." He trailed off, scratching his brow, "...I think it would be _good_ for us if we just...got out of here for awhile."

Helga sighed and gave him a small smirk out of the corner of her mouth, "Spending a couple extra weeks on vacation _would_ be nice."

"It will be. _Trust_ me. It'll be the _best_ thing."

"I know. You're right."

"So lets go then. Lets just...we can leave in a couple days and go have the time of our lives."

* * *

Sid walked into his favorite local dive, where he, Jeremy, and Brian often met for happy hours and the occasional dinner to blow off work related steam. When he arrived, his old friend was already sitting at the bar, beer in hand and in what appeared to be a very animated conversation with the bar tender, Lindy. They were regulars and she knew them well. He slid into the seat beside Brian, Lindy already pouring him his favorite lager.

"What's up Lindy?" He greeted her as she sat his beer down in front of him. He was feeling a little on edge about that day.

"Same shit, different day. And this guy," She pointed at Brian with smile while shaking her head.

Brian turned in his chair towards Sid, "Dude, where did you and Jay run off to so fast earlier today? I wanted to hear about your girls. What's the story, who is our guy after?"

"We just had some stuff go on," He answered, taking a sip of his beer and sort of looking around. The stuff that was twirling around in his head was tough to deal with. And it didn't make sense. None of it made _sense._

Brian lifted an eyebrow and adjusted his glasses, "Everything alright?"

Sid glanced back at his friend, sure that Brian could make out the visible strain in his face. He licked his lips and took a large gulp from his beer, "We found something that doesn't make sense..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry (not sorry) for another cliffy. Wonder what doesn't make any sense to them? What's Arnold planning? What else will we find out about those girls? Poor Helga seems to be caught completely in the middle of it all.

Thanks again for your comments! I enjoy reading everybody's theory of what's going on and what's going to happen. This is about to get a little bit crazier too.


	5. I was on a sinking ship

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Guys, I promise you I _am_ working on WATO too. Comedy can be very draining, and tricky, and I like to get it just right! I can spit out angsty stuff in my sleep though, which is why I've been speeding through the chapters on this. Love the speculations! I don't think it could be Helga, if she was the one killing girls, she wouldn't have called in the bone her dogs brought her. She would have kept that on the _down_ low.

* * *

 **I Never Let On,  
**

 **That I was on a Sinking Ship.  
**

Brian sat on the bar stool, staring at Sid as if he'd just told him the most unbelievable thing ever. Face in a blank awe, the knuckles of one of his hands having made it up to his lips, his elbow resting in the palm of the other. And, well...he had pretty much done just that. Sid scratched his forehead and looked off, not knowing what else to say other than, "Yeah..."

His friend dropped his hands, shaking his head in confusion, "No that _doesn't_ make any sense, Sid." He finally agreed.

Sid's grey orbs cut to the corners of his eyes, "It does if you want to consider..."

"Not possible," Brian dismissively replied.

The detective darkly laughed and looked back at his friend, "You and I both know that _anything_ is possible. People like this...they don't necessarily stick out."

"Dude, I get that, but what you're implying...it's just _out_ there."

"Yeah, and you don't think I'm struggling with it too?" Brian only fixed him with a stare, and Sid felt the need to continue to defend his position, "I'm saying that it's incredibly coincidental. He was the last person to see her alive."

"What about the past homeowners?"

"A ninety year old woman, in a assisted living home, with one daughter who lives in Tampa, and a husband whose been deceased since 1992? I don't think so. "

"What does Jay think?"

"He thinks it's too coincidental to be accident."

Brian shook his head once more, reaching out and downing what was left of his pint. "The time frame of it doesn't add up though."

"We're having that looked into."

* * *

Helga closed her laptop and gave Arnold a 'be serious' look. "A couple days? Babe, that's a lot of stuff to get in order for us to go _country_ hopping for a solid what...three weeks?"

"You know most of it is already taken care of. We already have our passports. I mean...hell we've been living out of a hotel for almost _three_ weeks. What else would we need to get in order to just...go tomorrow if we wanted?"

"Um...our dogs," She reminded him, setting her computer on the nightstand.

Arnold closed his eyes for a moment, having indeed completely forgotten about them. He was undeterred though, "We'll just leave them with your parents. They wont mind."

"Yeah, I guess."

He reached over and ran his hand across her _barely_ there little bump, affectionately curling his fingers a few times before just letting them rest and saying, "You know what they call a vacation pre-parenthood? A babymoon."

Helga snorted, nudging her hand up to his and zipping their fingers together, "Arnold, what's this really all about?" She looked at him. "I get the house thing has been a source of stress for us _both_ , but...you've just seemed...very distracted and distant lately."

"Yeah..." He admitted, but didn't spare any details.

"I know it's not cold feet."

"Not at all. I just...like I said, I think it would be good for us to...go clear our heads. Mine these days just...feels like it's about the split in two trying to reconcile everything."

Her eyes fell to their hands, subtly nodding, "I understand."

"Besides, we really _should_ go have one last hoo-raw before this sweet little girl starts calling _all_ of the shots," He smiled and she did too.

"Or before I'm too grouchy and huge to be allowed on a flight," She figured with a light chortle.

His smile widened, "You're probably _always_ too grouchy to be allowed on a flight. And huge? I think you meant too sexy?"

She playfully rolled her eyes at him, "No, I meant huge."

Gesturing away her absurdity, he countered with, " _Please._ You're already looking hot as hell with _my_ little baby bump here," He leaned in and nuzzled her neck, tickling her with his breath, smirking, "I probably wont be able to keep my hands off of you."

Helga gently batted him, casting him one of her famous little looks that was trying not to be unseated by the smile creeping on her face, "So business as usual then huh?" She called him out.

But his only reply initially was his own famous ear-to-ear smile, following up with, "Now is the time. Now is the perfect time. We can have a nice babymoon, go get married in Belize, then head straight into our honeymoon" He tried again, still needing her to _officially_ agree with his plans. "It'll be so much fun, we probably wont want to come back."

Lucky for him, she finally relented with huff and a, "Okay, okay," Giving into him, "I can't take anymore of your passive aggressive begging. _Sheesh_ ," She whined, but with a loving smirk as she leaned over and kissed him.

Arnold's face lit up as he kissed her back, "I'll book us two tickets tomorrow then."

* * *

Across town, having bid goodbye to Brian, Sid was headed up the elevator to his and Rhonda's corner condo. An apartment well out of his pay grade, on the side of town he seldom received calls from, and afforded _entirely_ by his wife's sizable and seemingly ever growing trust fund. Such was their entire life, and he could do without every _bit_ of it. Not to be misunderstood, he loved her dearly. Would jump into a pit, sloshing with peroxide, rusted bob wire, and razor blades if it meant she'd be okay. But he was a simple guy, happy with a simplistic life and she wanted the finest of everything.

Yet, she _loved_ that bad boy thing, and he had it for days, with his dark hair, grey eyes, body littered with tattoos, and penchant for leather jackets, and old muscle cars. Never mind the fact that, past the looks, he was the _exact_ opposite, but still, they were certainly a spectacle at the country club that she _insisted_ on maintaining a membership at...or every where they went, really.

Opposites _did_ attract at times. Total opposites was a rarity, _entirely_.

Still, nothing was quite as funny as seeing a chick in a $1500 dress, a $600 pair of heels, and a guy in jeans that realistically, he'd probably grabbed at Target... _on sale_ , along with a tee shirt, a fifteen year old worn-to-hell green hat, out to brunch on a Saturday... _together_. And married for six years to boot.

Love was weird that way, though. And they certainly weren't ones to question it _anymore._

When he opened the front door, he found her still awake, sitting on their white designer couch, hair up, wearing some black crop leggings, a red tee-shirt, and watching some chick show. She was a night owl, and she could be, considering she didn't have a _normal_ day job. Her job was being an old money Lloyd. Though technically she was a Moretti now. In fact, if it were up to her, he wouldn't have a day job either, and they would spend their time traveling, and living in one infinite vacation.

After all, they hadn't any big responsibilities. They hadn't any children, neither really desiring any, much to the contempt of her parents, her being an _only_ child and their _only_ source for grandchildren and all. At least he had a brother whose wife was _steadily_ spitting them out for his parents, so his own _lack_ of offspring went _relatively_ unnoticed in his family. None-the-less, they were young and figured they still had plenty of time to _maybe_ change their minds.

"Hey," She greeted from the couch.

He hung his keys up on the hook and made towards her, "Evening, my princess," He said with a small grin and sat down beside her on the couch, loosening his tie before undoing the top buttons on his shirt.

"Long day I guess," She observed more so than _asked_ , scooting closer to him, while curling her legs up on the couch. "I had Maddie save you some Lobster bisque." She said, referring to their housekeeper who had practically become part time personal chef because of their obsession with her amazing cooking.

"Thanks," He draped his arm around her and gave her a sweet kiss, "And yeah, it's getting longer every day. Things are getting weird." He sighed and leaned his head backwards, and over the edge of the couch.

"With murder house?"

Sid snorted and lifted his head, giving his wife a funny look, "Murder house? Is that what everybody is calling it now?" She was the socialite after all. She of all people would know what the chatter was.

But, surprisingly she only shrugged, instead specifying with, "It's what _I'm_ calling it. _Entirely_ appropriate I think."

"Yeah," He nodded, "With _murder_ house." using her term, and secretly admitting that it was a good one. Definitely headline worthy.

"Now when you say weird..." She began again, appearing as if something suddenly interested her about it all, "What are we talking about here? Weird in that, one of your girls is _actually_ a man, making your killer an ambiguous hunter whose quite possibly self loathing of his bi-sexuality."

A very tiny laugh escaped from Sid's throat and he shook his head, "At this point, I really wish it were that. As odd as that may sound."

Rhonda's face dimmed a tad, mildly disappointed about her theory being solidly debunked so quickly. "Hmmm..." Her lips pursed momentarily as she was toiling on something else.

"On top of that, we can't even _prove_ that sex was part of the motive. He may just _like_ killing women."

Rhonda's dark and impeccably manicured brow lifted with interest, "But a few of them we're prostitutes, were they not?" Her husband nodded, finding it a little peculiar that she would ask, "Not to speculate _completely_ , but those type of... _ladies_ tend to often be on the receiving end of the violent sexual fantasies or... _frustrations_ , of many serial killers."

"Yes they often are," He again agreed, and then began giving her a adoring little look, "Since when are you so knowledgeable about crime psychology?"  
Rhonda looked a little taken-a-back, but she confidently popped her chin in the air, giving him a knowing smile and said, "I do have an interest in what you spend your days doing."

Her remark had Sid flat out grinning at her, "You would like nothing more if I quit, so you could have me twenty four seven."

To which she sighed, "Well darling, it's only because the idea of spending the winter on a yacht in Greece, drinking champagne is _far_ more appealing to me than enduring the snow here, and you'd be crazy to suggest otherwise," Her husband began chuckling a little. She did hate their brutal Northwestern winters, "But I do find some...oh, lets be honest, _a lot_ of interest in what you do."

He beamed at her, "Well thank you. And actually, your theories were better than what's been suggested by others at work."

She waved him off, "I tried and now I'm all out. So," She nudged him, "Do dish about what's so freaky-deeky, dear."

Sid sighed and scratched his eyebrow, "At least eight of the girls we've found have...no connection to each other, or the property or...but one of the girls..." He trailed off, bracing himself to be told that it was crazy. "One of the girls has a _direct_ connection to Arnold."

Rhonda's mouth fell slack.

* * *

 **Next Day**

Arnold had gotten their tickets. And their flight was departing mid-afternoon. Which meant he and Helga had had a busy morning. He got himself scheduled off with personal leave for the next month and picked up some last minute items they'd need on their flights, _plural_. Hillwood surprisingly didn't have an international airport and so they would be catching their final flight at LAX in California. It wasn't _ideal_ for him. He'd prefer to be able to make a straight shot into Mexico but, it was what it was. Helga was out tying up her own work related loose ends, and dropping their dogs off at her parents, which left him a good opportunity to head to the bank and make a sizable withdraw out of their savings account without her necessarily being _aware_ of it.

She'd _kill_ him if she knew he was doing it, getting out as much money as he was, but he thought it would be the _better_ option for them. He and his wife— _fuck_ formalities at this point— were about to be running around two foreign countries. He _really_ couldn't afford to get into a situation where they couldn't use their cards anymore. American dollars, however, spent anywhere in the world.

It would be fine. He kept telling himself that.

Great in fact.

Nobody would be able to _bother_ them. The only things they would have to worry about would be what amazing thing they wanted to do or see next.

He bid the teller at their bank a goodbye after an incredibly uncomfortable money exchange, which he quickly shoved into his backpack, not wanting to wave around that kind of cash, or draw anymore attention to it and left.

When he arrived back at their hotel, she was already back too, and had packed up all of their things, the room actually looking like a hotel room again and not a dorm that was at over capacity. He was relieved that she finally seemed just as enthusiastic about this spur of the moment trip has he was. Her face was already beaming the second she saw him walk in. That glow everybody talked about was really starting to radiate through every inch of her. And he loved it. It was beautiful.

"Hey!" She chirped happily.

He smiled, "Hey. That was quick. You got the dogs dropped off and all?"

She planted her hands on her hips after zipping the final duffle bag of theirs, "Yeah. My dad wasn't _thrilled,_ but when is he ever."

"I figured."

"He _literally,_ is the grouchiest man on the planet in his old age."

"And you wonder where you get it from?" He chuckled, watching her fix him with a very unamused glare, accompanied with a sarcastic, 'Ha _ha_ '.

"So what all did you pick up?" She inquired, looking at the little black back-pack slung over his right shoulder.

Giving it a quick glance himself, he coolly shrugged, "Bath stuff we always forget. My first aid kit from the hospital." It wasn't a lie, but not the total truth of his bags contents.

"You expecting to be performing some surgeries in the Mexican desert there, Football head?" She teased and he gave her a halfway 'be serious' look.

"Well, I hope not. You know me though. Better safe than sorry."

"Yeah, yeah." She turned and grabbed one last bag and tossed it onto the bed with the rest of their stuff, completing her inventory count, "So we're ready then?"

Arnold nodded, "Yeah. Mexico here we come." He replied, grinning widely.

* * *

"Alright, show me what was so important..." The station lieutenant walked into their conference room where Sid and Jeremy and many of their fellow officers and detective had gathered, it being _the_ case at that moment. On their big white board, the photos of the nine woman identified were pinned, the remaining two being represented with giant question marks. Sid felt absolutely sick thinking about what he was about to suggest, having slept very little the night before knowing that he had to.

Jeremy appeared much more relaxed about the entire thing, though admitted to him over morning coffee, that it didn't feel good knowing that he might potentially throw somebody that he once cared about's life— _Helga's_ —into a tailspin. It made Sid feel slightly better that he wasn't the only one struggling with the personal connection of this investigation.

"We have a subject of interest in the murder house case." Sid began, slipping up and using Rhonda's term.

"Murder house?" The old lieutenant grumbled, "That's what they're calling it now?"

Sid sighed, Jeremy giving him a curious expression of his own, " _I've_ been calling it that," He lied, wishing to move on and get this shit over with.

"Hmm. Fits I guess. Continue," The lieutenant ordered.

"So, uh...so far we have Britney Ross, Amy Fredrick, Morgan Harris, Marie Styles and Sarah Copland, prostitutes. Jessica Tolberson and Kelly Dennis, runaways. Stephanie Peterson, and Taylor Mendez. Students. Now none of these girls have any connection to one another, but one of them _does_ have a connection to one of the home owners." Sid was feeling his mouth starting dry out.

That's when Jeremy stepped up, helping his partner out, "Taylor Mendez is the former girlfriend of Arnold Shortman. He's also the last person to ever see her _alive_."

"I remember that," One of the older officers in the back spoke up, "Before you boys were here." Jeremy wanted to smart back with a _No shit. We're the same age as her._ But he didn't. "We questioned him. Had nothing to go on though. She just...vanished."

"But in the report, it was stated that he _was_ the last person that had seen her before she went missing," The dark brunette imparted on the group.

The officer nodded, "If I remember, he had gone to her apartment to break things off."

Jeremy cleared his throat, "So maybe she didn't go quietly or maybe she threa—"

"—Christ on a fucking _cracker_..." The Lieutenant presupposed with a groan, "We've got a guy whose got eleven goddamn bodies around his property, one of them his ex-girlfriend and now you're telling me he has been questioned about her disappearance _prior_ to this?"

Sid crossed his arms and limply nodded, "Yeah."

"If she was killed five and half years ago, how'd she get to the property he's only owned for two years?" Somebody asked.

The lieutenant scoffed. Obviously thinking the question was stupid as hell, "Who the fuck gives a shit! Go pick his ass up." He gave Jeremy and Sid a sharp look and left out of the room, presumably onto something 'more important.'

Jeremy glanced at Sid and said, "You want me to file the arrest warrant or you?"

"I'll do it."

* * *

Meanwhile, across town at the airport, Arnold had just finished dropping their last bag onto check-in, shrugging his back pack completely onto his back, Helga having her own back pack carry on as well. She was mostly quiet as the walked through the terminal, heading in the direction of their plane. Arnold looked down at her as they walked, reaching out and taking her hand in hers. They weren't typically a publicly affectionate couple, never had been, so it caught her off guard when he did that, warranting a curious look from her. One that she quickly shelved for a tender smile. And not feeling the need to say anything at all, she just kept on walking with him.

When they finally reached their gate, Arnold dug out their pair of tickets and handed them over to the attendant. "Alright. You're good to go," The jovial woman gave them a cherub faced smile and gestured them towards the boarding door. "Enjoy your flight."

"Thanks," Arnold said shooting her one of his handsome doctor smirks and he and Helga walked down the shoot towards the plane.

"Do you want the window?" He asked her when that stopped at their row. She nodded and handed her back pack to him, scooting in first, past two other people, and settled into the chair, Arnold shoved their bags in the overhead storage bin and then inched his tall self past the two other passengers, sitting down next to her.

They were among some of the last on the plane. Once he'd gotten himself comfortable he placed his left hand atop the one she had on her arm rest and asked, "Excited yet?"

Having been staring at the runway from the window, she turned at looked at him with a smile, "Oh yeah." That was when something dark caught her ever observant eye and she looked down, seeing a charcoal colored tungsten carbine ring on his third finger, realizing that it was his wedding ring, "You decided to start wearing it early huh?"

"Easiest way to keep up with while traveling," He smiled and she quietly chucked.

Helga snorted, giving him a faux weary look, "I hate to think where mine is."

"In a safe place. Don't you worry."

* * *

By the late afternoon, they had their warrant in pocket, expedited to them by their favorite judge and they were marching across the parking lot towards their cruiser like two men on a mission. "They should still be at the hotel. I know they haven't been back to their house. We've kept a cruiser out there to deter spectators." Jeremy said as he hopped in the drivers side. Sid curled his body into the passengers.

As he put the car in gear, he looked over at his partner who was looking a little worse for wear, "You need to put your big boy pants on," He jeered. It wasn't the time for sentiment.

Sid cut his eyes at him and shook his head, "Man, just chill, okay? You didn't know this guy like I did." He was beyond irritated with his best friend by that point. No matter the circumstances, it was still a hard thing he was having to go do, and come to terms with.

Jeremy side eyed him and then rolled his eyes, "I knew him long enough," He ascertained.

His partner scoffed, wanting to reach over and knock him up side the head for being such a dick about it. But he didn't, instead laying into him with, "No, you didn't. _I_ grew up with him. You _didn't_. You showed up in eighth grade from _Florida_ ," Sid heatedly asserted, "He was always like...the gold standard for a decent human being to me, man. You just have _no_ idea."

Jeremy exhaled, seeming to understand that he'd perhaps been a little _too_ dismissive of the internal struggle his best friend was battling. Sure, maybe he _didn't_ fully understand, because, no he _hadn't_ known Arnold since he was five. "Sorry, I shouldn't have been so harsh. To be perfectly honest though, I'm _less_ concerned about him being a secret psychopath at the moment and more concerned about Helga running around with him, in _real_ danger."

Sid to his own astonishment, hadn't even _considered_ that other aspect of the situation. Yes, he was having to come to terms with his childhood good guy potentially being a monster, but he'd _completely_ forgotten about the other victim of this situation. _Helga._ He'd known her _longer_ than Jeremy had _and_ they hadn't _any_ bad blood. And he'd still forgotten about her! " _Fuck!_ " He swore under his breath as he straightened from his slumped posture, "He could go after her next."

"If she isn't a complete cover for him, her days are likely numbered."

"That's true, man. A lot of serial killers have wives and kids and...and..."

"Are often times are pillars of their community," Jeremy finished for him, turning and giving him an apologetic glance.

" _Fuck!_ " Sid swore again, "I hate this. I fucking hate this."

* * *

They pulled up front of the hotel that had been the last place they knew that Arnold and Helga had been staying. Both blowing into the lobby like a storm, churning towards the counter where they quickly flashed their badges and asked the manager, "Arnold Shortman or Helga Pataki. Room number please."

"Yes sir," The wide eyed young man said, scooting over and nervously typing on their desks computer. "Looks like they checked out."

The two detectives blinked at the guy before Sid asked, "When?"

"Noon. Today."

Sid turned and looked at Jeremy, "Her parents." The pushed off the counter and began walking back out of the lobby, leaving the desk manager wondering what the hell was going one. "If they aren't there, there's only one other place I can think they would be."

"Where?"

"With Gerald and Phoebe Johanssen."

They slid back into their black cruiser and flipped around in the street, Jeremy not needing any direction what-so-ever to the Pataki's town house. He'd spent enough time there to _never_ forget it

* * *

Jeremy and Sid arrived at Miriam and Bob's town house not more than twenty minutes later, pulling up to the curb all haphazardly and hurriedly exiting the car, jogging up their stoop, and anxiously ringing the door bell. The wait seemed like an eternity, but the door finally swung open, relieving a greying Miriam, who couldn't hide her surprise about _who_ was at her door step. "Jeremy?" She asked, squinting through her glasses. _Surely_ it couldn't be him at her door. Oh, but it was. And she'd never forget the boy with the chipped eyebrow who they'd caught, on more than one occasion, trying to sneak into their youngest's room in high school.

He tightly smiled at her, "Hey Miriam, how are you?"

"Well, I'm good..." She answered awkwardly, "Can I help you with something?" She naturally cut to the chase. Why would her daughters ex-boyfriend and some other guy, who looked _vaguely_ familiar to her, be standing on her porch on a weekday afternoon?

Jeremy nodded, "Are Helga and Arnold here?"

Miriam gave him the oddest look before they heard: "Miriam who is it?!"

She leaned back in the house, "It's Jeremy!"

"Who?" They heard, and then some shuffling with Big Bob coming into view from the foyer area and then him bumbling up behind her at the door, surprise enveloping his aged face, "Jeremy! Well, what do you want?"

The detective exhaled an impatient sigh, "Are Helga and Arnold here?" He tried _once_ again.

Bob grumbled, "No. They dropped their damn mutts off so they could catch a plane."

Sid's face fell, "A plane?"

Bob gave him an annoyed expression. A look that was no secret were Helga got it from and remarked, "Yeah a plane. You've heard of one?" Yeah, classic Helga _right_ there.

"A plane to _where?_ " Jeremy urgently asked.

The couple glanced at him, "Mexico."

Sid watched his partners eyes flash with a darkness he'd never seen before. A dark frustration that, maybe, he could sympathize with too. Jeremy kept it together though, he was always _very_ professional, telling Bob and Miriam 'thank you' and that they'd be in touch, but the minute the door had closed and he had turned to descend the steps to the sidewalk he bellowed, "Mother _fucker!_ " into the air with such aggression one would have thought he might have been crazy. " _Fuck!_ " He shouted again.

His frustration wasn't _exactly_ misplaced. Sid understood. Even with extradition laws in place, Mexico was a great place to disappear into. And if somebody were t _ruly_ running, it wouldn't be an out-of-the-ordinary spot to head towards.

He just couldn't believe it.

Arnold Shortman. Fugitive.

Nothing had made him more of a begrudged believer than _this._ Why would an innocent person be fleeing the country? Why? What sense did _any_ of that make?

And Helga going with him? It made him sick. If they didn't find them, she would likely disappear _forever._ Maybe not right away, but he felt that she _would._ If he were out of the country, and in no need for the cover that they thought she _were_ for him, he'd get rid of her once he grew tired of her. She and her baby. Yeah, he remembered what Jeremy had told him. There were _three_ people in this equation.

Sid felt even more ill by it all. The whole world was shifting around him, in a weird surrealistic way, and he didn't like the dark direction it had veered off towards. He almost felt drugged by it all. He didn't even remember getting back into the car. The next thing he knew he was looking over at his best friend who had just slammed his palm into the top of the steering wheel as hard as he could. That was when Sid, in a moment of clarity remembered that they still had a way to catch them. There was still a a chance.

"LAX..." He said, and Jeremy shot him look. Sid licked his lips, "You can't fly from Hillwood into Mexico without having a layover at LAX. Trust me, I _know._ " And he did know. As much traveling as Rhonda liked to do, he was an expert on flight patterns from their home town. "We need to put a call into LAPD to keep an eye out for them there. Consider him _dangerous._ "

Jeremy nodded. "Hopefully, that _is_ where he is going."

* * *

 **7:05pm - Los Angeles  
**

Arnold and Helga walked through the LAX airport, having to march all the way across the giant complex to get to their next flight, and in less that 45 minutes. As they were walking, she reached out and grabbed his arm in a gesture for him to stop. He did, giving her a concerned glance, to which she replied with, "I need a second. I'm feeling...sick." She told him, feeling a hard wave a nausea come hurdling up her throat.

"Do you need to go the bathroom?" His hand came to rest on the small of her back. She stopped, resting her hand on her mouth, looking up, before swallowing hard and looking back down at the floor, trying to shake it with sheer will power. It wasn't the time for a bout of morning sickness. "Sweetheart..." He tried again, only receiving a half head shake from her. She wanted to be okay but she wasn't entirely _okay_.

"It's just...sorry," She swallowed, "The nausea is just...overwhelming at times," She said, bracing her self against him.

"I know," He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head, "I'm sure it wont be much longer until it's gone for good." Helga nodded into his chest. "If you think you're okay, we've _got_ to be on our next flight in 30 minutes."

Helga finally pulled back, pushing up on her toes to kiss him, "Alright," She nodded, "I can make it down there." She said, still feeling the nausea hammer at her core, but knowing she'd feel loads better if they could get to the plane and sit down. He nodded at her and pulled her away, down the giant lobby way and across the massive expanse of airport that LAX was.

Arnold kept her close, choosing to throw his arm over her shoulder as they strolled. He hoped that that made her feel a little better in her state of discomfort. They just had to get to that plane. She'd feel better, and he'd feel better, once they were on it.

They continued to walk, him trying his best to comfort her on the way to their second plane. Making their way, more slowly than usual, across the airport they got in the longer, but quickly moving line to board their final flight. It was there and everything hit the fan. Arnold, who had been resting his cheek on the top of her head, happened to look back and see the whole thing coming.

They hadn't been aware of any of it. The call put in as the flight landed. The alert to keep out a eye for a tall blonde man carrying a black Adidas back pack, a detail courtesy of one of the flight attendants. He was traveling with blonde woman and should be considered potentially dangerous.

A swarm of police officers had crept up on them, guns drawn sending everybody into a ducking panic around them. "Arnold Phillip Shortman!" Helga heard a man yell. She turned too, to see L.A's finest descending upon them in a blue furry. That's when they hurled into him, ripping him away from her side and nearly plowing her over in the process, before yanking her away a little _too_ aggressively.

And he didn't like that _one_ bit, yelling, "Don't _touch_ her!" at them as he was being wrestled into hand cuffs and recited his Miranda rights.

"Arnold!" Helga screamed as she was being pushed away by the officers.

"Arnold Shortman, you are under arrest for the murders of, Britney Ross, Amy Fredrick, Morgan Harris, Marie Styles, Sarah Copland, Jessica Tolberson, Kelly Dennis, Stephanie Peterson, and Taylor Mendez..."

He wasn't paying any attention to them, looking past the sea of blue at her and calling, "Helga!" As they started hauling him away. She hadn't heard anything of what they'd said either, only hearing 'arrest.'

"Where are you taking him? Why are you arresting him?!" She shouted at the first officer that approached her.

"Are you Helga Pataki?" He asked, seemingly not hearing anything that she'd asked him. She habitually nodded, as one did when they heard their name, "You need to come with us."

"Am I under arrest?!"

The officer didn't skip a beat, "You aren't. But it's in your best interest to come with us."

She didn't know what to say, or know what to think. What was this all about? Why was he being arrested? What had they done wrong? What had he done _wrong?_ It had to be some type of mistake. Some kind of misunderstanding. Something warm forcefully wrapped around her upper arm. Looking down she saw that it was the large hand of one of the officers, pulling her with him. Blinking, she realized that she no longer saw Arnold. "Where is he?" She asked aloud. Not knowing where they had taken him, or where they were taking her. "Why are you arresting him?" She then asked.

Her throat was feeling so tight. She couldn't cry right now. _Goddammit_ , she was so tired of being a slave to these hormones. She had _never_ been a crier. A fighter, is what she was. But she didn't know what was going on! Nobody would talk to her!

Swallowing hard, she bucked up her set of brass ones and yanked her arm away from the burly man escorting her, and spat, "Why the _fuck_ are you arresting him?!" And she could tell, by the way the guy slightly jumped, that she'd startled him.

The officer sighed, "We have an arrest warrant from Hillwood, Washington. That's all I can say," He finally explained, though Helga didn't know anymore than she already did. He then reached back for her, gently taking her arm again and continuing his escort.

* * *

They had gotten Arnold out of there quick. LAPD could make a scene, but they certainly knew how to clear out quick. He hadn't asked a lot of questions other than wanting to know where they were taking Helga, a question, along with all of any others had gone effectively, unanswered. But it was when he finally sighed, dropping his head to his chest and said, "There's been some kind of mistake here." That he got his response.

"Shut your fucking mouth, sicko," One of them from somewhere behind him snapped.

Arnold had nothing to say back, and remained silent for the duration of his walk, it ending with him being loaded into the back of one of their patrol Suburbans. As soon as the door slammed shut, the lead officer who had been apart of the escort, pulled out his work cell, scrolling to the number with the out of state area code and pressed it, bringing it to his ear.

A moment went by before a hint of a smirk brushed his lips and he said, "Got him."

* * *

 **Two days later - Hillwood  
**

It had taken two days for LAPD to transport Arnold back to Hillwood. An agonizingly long ride it was, and he still hadn't a clue where Helga was. He didn't know if she were already back in Hillwood or if she were still in Los Angeles somewhere. Nobody had told him anything while he sat in a cell for a solid twenty four hours.

What he didn't know was that she hadn't been far from him the entire time. She hadn't been under arrest, but police had been instructed by Hillwood PD to make it seem as if she had to return to Hillwood at the same time as Arnold. They had some questions for her as well.

She hadn't let anybody know anything that was going on. She didn't know _what_ was going on, or what she would even say. She couldn't worry her friends or her parents until she knew something.

Needless to say, by the time he arrived at the precinct and was let loose in an interrogation room, Arnold was exhausted. His wrist were so sore from a long as drive in the handcuffs, he'd had about three hours worth of sleep, he hadn't showered, and he was flat out _angry._ But he sat in the chair, propping his arms up on the table and waited, like a good boy.

His day got worst when he looked up and saw Jeremy walk into the room, carrying a few folders with him, that fucking _annoying_ , arrogant tight smile on his face with his fucking toothpick.

The detective sat down across from him and carefully laid out his folders before asking, "You know why you're here right?"

Arnold snorted, and pushed off of the table, choosing to lean back in this chair in an attempt to be as far away from the guy as possible, "No, Jeremy. I _don't_." He defensively crossed his arms.

Jeremy quietly snorted himself and looked down at his folders, "Okay. We can play that game." He pulled his toothpick out of his mouth and used the tip of it to flip open the folder directly in front of him and then spun it to face Arnold. "You recognize her, don't you?" The blondes curious bottle green orbs scanned the folders contents, "Of course you do. You used to date her," He casually stuck his toothpick back in his mouth and twirled it a few times with his tongue, "Oh and we found her underneath your patio." The blonde's eyes flipped back up to Jeremy's, "You know...the patio you didn't want me to tear up."

Arnold shook his head, "Bullshit..."

The dark brunette laughed, "Come on man. You don't think that's just...a little bit coincidental?"'

"I don't know what to think."

"You were questioned about her going missing, weren't you? Back in college."

Arnold rolled his eyes but fisted a hand through his ever unruly hair, "And I'll tell you, what I told them then. I left her apartment, she was upset but said she was _going_ to bed, I never _saw_ her again!"

Jeremy ran his tongue over the fronts of his upper teeth and shifted in his seat, "So you never saw her again, but she's under your patio...along with ten other girls, and...coincidentally enough, you decide that right _now_ is an appropriate time to head to Mexico."

"I was trying to take my _wife_ on a nice vacation."

The detective grinned, "Don't bullshit yourself, you aren't married to her yet. Probably wont _ever_ be." Jeremy knew that he shouldn't have taunted him like that, mentally kicking himself for doing so. It was _incredibly_ unprofessional, and he knew it.

"Fuck you," Arnold seethed through his teeth.

"Vacation huh?" Jeremy leaned forward again and flipped open another folder and flipped around, "Who withdraws $20,000 in cash to go on a vacation?" He asked.

Arnold sighed, "We were about to spend almost a _month_ traveling. I wanted us to have the _time_ of our lives. The last thing I _wanted_ is our bank shutting our cards down because of massive withdrawals in several foreign countries, thinking it was fraud," He sneered back at him.

"Or, one could live, under the radar, for a very long time with that type of cash," Jeremy counter suggested. "Helga know about all this?" Arnold fixed him with a burning stare, but refused to answer, but Jeremy heard him loud and clear, "Oh she doesn't huh? Hmm...I'm willing to bet she doesn't know about Taylor either does she?"

"I didn't do anything to Taylor and I...I don't know _how_ she ended up on my property."

"You two are a house _built_ on lies aren't you now?" Jeremy shot him a flash of a fake smile, then reached over and flipped open another folder, "You know, I was doing a little digging while I was waiting for you to get here, and I realized there is another person potentially in this all that nobody is talking about." He turned the folder towards his captive and raised his chipped brow, asking, "Where's Monica Davenport, Arnold?"

Arnold's face drained completely of color.

Jeremy smirked, "Yeah you know her. Head nurse on your floor at Hillwood Medical. She's been missing for a little while now. So where is she Arnold? Where'd you put her?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Lord, the cliffhangers! Things aren't looking so hot for Arnold. Jeremy's a smooth dude though, and Sid? I really wanted to flesh out Sid more. I never have so it was...a little fun going a bit into him a Rhonda's life. I wanted to really fill out his eternal struggle with all this too. Anyway, R&R and happy 4th everybody!

Stay with me now! Lots more twists and turns to come!


	6. They'll keep us apart

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Alright, so last chapter had a clue in it. Most of everything _ever_ mentioned, has some purpose and will come back into play in later chapters. I can be a drably writer at times, but I'm trying to drop hints subtly everywhere in this with my drabble. We'll see I guess. Anyway enjoy!

* * *

 **They'll keep us apart,**

 **And they won't stop breaking us down.**

Helga sat on the edge of her seat, bent over the table with her head in her palm, anxiously flipping the cap to her empty water bottle aimlessly around in circles. She was tired, so tired, and running purely on adrenaline and total will power. She'd been in that room for going on an hour and half at that point, without so much as a peep from anybody, and she was about at her wits end.

Finally, when she was all good and ready to get up and go bang her palms on the glass a few times to get somebody's attention, the door clicked. Her eyes darted up, seeing Sid slowly enter the room, taking note of the dark circles under his own eyes, and the open Red Bull can being loosely clutched between his fingers along with some folders.

He gave her a worn and somewhat apologetic smile as he sat down in front of her, "Helga, I'm sorry you've been stuck in here for so lo—"

"—Sid, what's going _on?_ " She dropped her arm to the table and sat up, giving him a hollowed out stare. His eyes fell to his folders, realizing he had begun biting his lip when they did. He knew she was tired of being jerked around over the last two days, and as much as he didn't want to bring the wave of shit that reality was, down on her in one fell swoop, he knew she wouldn't tolerate him trying to be delicate with her.

So when he looked back up at her very impatient eyes, he licked his lips and braced himself to say, "We've arrested Arnold for the murders of the eleven girls found on your property."

Helga's mouth went slack for a moment, her jaw then opening and closing a few times as if she wanted to say something but just couldn't quite make it happen. Words were indeed hard to come by for her. She could see in her mind, what she wanted to say, but she just couldn't make it happen. None of it made any _sense_ to her. It wasn't right. There _had_ to be a mistake. "On what grounds? Because we own the _house?_ " She finally managed to ask, her voice extremely strained by that point.

Sid's heart was breaking for her, and physically, he couldn't hide it in the way his mouth down turned and his brows scrunched together. "We found Taylor Mendez under the patio. I don't know if you remember her, but..."

" _Taylor?_ " Helga whispered. Yes. Yes she did know who she was. At that point, she sat back in the chair, bringing her knuckles to cover her mouth as she looked off, feeling a heavy tear roll out of the corner of her eye. "I do...I knew that she was..." Whatever she was about to say, she never bothered finishing.

So Sid continued with, "Did you know she went missing five and a half years ago?"

Helga swallowed hard, and shook her head, "No, I didn't." Admittedly, she hadn't paid much attention to a lot of anything that wasn't...well, Arnold, at the time. Having been more wrapped up in a _very_ intense and _very_ steamy new relationship with him. And he had never shown any signs of concern or of there being anything wrong.

"I'm guessing then, you didn't know that he was questioned about her disappearance." She refused to look at him _._ "Because he was the last person who ever saw her alive. The night he was breaking things off with her," He explained and proceeded to inwardly cringe as he watched a second tear slip down her cheek, taking a faint black line of mascara down with it. He imagined Rhonda being put in a situation like this, and his heart just continued to break for her. As much as he didn't want to continue to be the one providing the turmoil, he begrudgingly went on with, "It's troublesome that she was found...where she was with all of that in mind." That was the best he could come up with. The best he could tactfully word it.

Finally, she looked at him, eyes bloodshot and glossy with disbelief, "Sid, you can't _believe_ he did that."

His grey eyes fell to the table, unable to face her, and he sighed with an audible sadness in his breath, "I don't know _what_ I believe, Helga."

"No," She vehemently shook her head, unwilling to accept his less than subtle hint. "No, he's _not_ capable."

"There's another woman, we're looking into as well. Monica Davenport," He began as he watched her continue to shake her head in denial. He knew, on that reaction alone, that she was at _least_ familiar with her name, "He worked with her. She's been missing for twenty five days now."

"He's _not,_ " She replied _,_ knowing _exactly_ what he was implying.

 _Serial killer._

"Look I..." He trailed off, his eyes falling back to the table as he searched for the right words, "I can't even imagine how you're feeling right now. I'm really...I'm really struggling myself. But Helga, there isn't much _wiggle room_ here."

"He's not, _Sid_ ," She repeated with an air of finality.

"These guys, they can blend in very well sometimes. They...they have careers and...they have families to hide their darkness beneath. He's not what he seems."

Helga continued shaking her head, the tears steadily being squeezed out of the corners of her eyes, while feeling _very_ self loathing of her transformation from tough girl into a hormonal, and disorganized mess. She felt crippled by it. Crippled by the fact that she wasn't _herself_ in the moment she needed to be the most, even though she knew she couldn't _help it._ It still didn't make her feel any less helpless and well out of her comfort zone. Normal her would have already gone across that table and knocked the wind out of Sid for even _implying_ such an atrocious accusation, but mother-to-be Helga could only sit there and churn up tears over it.

She hated it. She hated every bit of it.

While she may have had _no_ control over her emotions those days, her mind was still humming along _just_ fine for the most part. And in her mind, Sid was _full_ of shit and it was all one giant misunderstanding. Arnold _wasn't_ a serial killer. Not _her_ Arnold. He couldn't harm a fly. She wasn't a cover for his evilness. Their life wasn't some giant invisibility cloak, masking his dark, wretched desires and actions.

It _wasn't_ possible.

Their life was _real_. Everything they had together _was_ real.

They had just bought the wrong house, at the wrong time. That's _all._

"Helga," Sid reached his arm across the table, offering his open hand to her, "I...I need you too think about _you_ right now. Okay?"

She glared at him through blurry eyes, "How can I possibly _think_ about me, when you've stolen part of it away?"

* * *

Jeremy smirked, "Yeah you know her. Head nurse on your floor at Hillwood Medical. She's been missing for a little while now. So where is she Arnold? Where'd you put her?"

"I didn't do _anything_ to her." Arnold seethed through his teeth.

The detective sat back in his chair and coolly crossed his legs, "You know Arnold, it would be much better if you just tell us where she is, and...just admit to what you are. You do that now and...you'll possibly spare yourself a needle in the arm down the road."

Arnold slammed his palm on the table, having finally lost his cool, "I didn't fucking kill those girls!" He shouted at him.

Sighing, Jeremy leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and scratching his face, before saying, "You know what I think?"

"I don't care."

"I think that you've been at this for a _long_ time. And I think that Helga was your perfect meal ticket and the perfect camouflage for you. Your mistake was burying your bodies on your own property. But they're trophies for you right? Anytime you went out back, they were there. Where were you keeping Taylor before you moved her to your patio?"

"For the last time, I have no idea how she or any of those other girls ended up at my house!"

"Yeah you do. And I'm positive you have another killing field somewhere. You just moved some of your favorites didn't you? You sick little fuck."

Arnold rolled his eyes, balling his hands into tight fists, "You know what my mistake was? Buying the wrong damn _house!_ "

Jeremy laughed, and reached over and flipped open his final folder, " _You_ didn't even buy that house." And then fixed him with a pointed stare, "According to the mortgage holder," He pointed at the paper, "Helga owns that house, _not_ you. 'Cause she's the bread winner right? She's pulling in the cash right now."

"Well, Jeremy I guess with _that_ logic you could suggest that _she_ killed those girls," Arnold shook his head in disbelief. "Which is just as laughable."

Jeremy was unmoved though, flipping to a second piece of paper, "I'm pointing out that she's taken _care_ of you for the majority of the time you've been together."

"I'm in the _middle_ of my residency. Of _course_ I'm making a lot _less_ than her right _now._ What does this _have_ to do with anything?" Arnold huffed back in his chair, glaring at the detective, before heatedly gesturing out with his arm, "And why the hell are _you_ going through _our_ finances?"

"Just a piece of a much larger theory of mine," Jeremy grinned, choosing not to answer Arnold's question, and instead going on with, "You're an intelligent guy. You...get involved with a girl whose independent, and can foot the bill for everything. I mean, you've got to hand it to ole' Bob, he's an asshole, but he spits out winners. She's been the perfect hiding spot for you. She's busy, isn't clingy, takes care of everything...frees you up to stalk and kill _a lot_ of women," He sat back in his chair again, crossing his arms, "That's a _great_ set up, in fact. The handsome heart surgeon, his gorgeous wife, and their adorable little family. You get your hooks in _deep_ , create the illusion of the perfect life. You'd go unnoticed for... _decades..._ perhaps _forever._ "

Arnold rolled his eyes, and leaned forward, dropping his elbows heavily on the table, "You're an idiot."

* * *

"I know it's hard. I don't want to be in here having to do this to you anymore than you do. But I know that if...you start thinking about everything, you're going to realize that many things don't make a lot of sense," Sid tried again with Helga, withdrawing his hand.

Helga huffed, having grown tired of every bit of that day, "Like _what?_ "

"Like this trip to Mexico," He started with. He was curious about what her impression of this all was.

"Sid, we were going on an extended vacation. We are suppose to be getting married in Belize two weeks from now," She said as if it were the most normal thing on the planet.

"Was this planned all along?"

Helga hesitated for a moment, but finally replied with, "No. We decided to take a break from everything a few days ago."

Sid folded his arms on the table, "Your idea or his?" Him asking her that seemed to strike a chord in her, that left her looking as she'd just tasted something awful as she looked off to the floor. "Was it his?" Her eyes fluttered back to his, a newly dispatched concern smearing through her ice blue orbs. She never did answer him, but he knew the answer. Her reaction said what she never could. "He withdrew twenty _thousand_ dollars from a joint account of yours the day your flight departed from Hillwood. What did he tell you that was—"

" _What?_ "

Sid was just as confused as she was at that point. The entire time they had always assumed that she knew they were traveling with a large sum of money, but under false impressions of why. However, she acted as if that were the first she'd heard of it. He cleared his throat with a small cough, "Were you not aware of that?"

Helga suddenly felt stupid, having to admit that she didn't regularly check into that account. What person didn't regularly check into their money? A busy work-a-holic who knew nothing major ever went in and out of one of only two accounts that they shared. That's who. "I might look at that account once a month." She said in a low voice.

"He had the money in his back pack. And he didn't tell you about it. Why do you think he would do that?" Sid asked, he already speculating why Arnold would do that, but hoping that he could leave a crumb trail that she would follow.

"I'm sure he had his reasons," One being that he had to have known she would flip her lid about them toting that much cash around.

"To me, that looks like he may have known who we'd find under that concrete," Sid suggested, and then watched as her eyes scrunched tight and a few more tears pushed out. "What if what I'm saying is true? What if his whole reason for wanting to leave and taking out the money was because he _did_ know that we'd find Taylor there? What do you think would have happened when he was done with you? You would have disappeared and nobody would have ever known where—"

"—Stop talking to me like I'm a _fucking_ child," She scolded, shooting him a few well placed daggers with her red, glassy eyes. She wasn't one that had ever let somebody talk down to her like she were stupid, and even in the position she were in, the principle still applied.

Sid seemed to understand how he'd come across to her, and knowing how'd she'd always been in their youth, knew that trying to lecture and scare her wasn't going to be a winning strategy. It had been stupid to say, and if he were fair with himself, it had just kind of come out without a thought. He at least had the awareness to correct with a sincere, "I'm sorry," He told her honestly, and ran a hand over his brown hair.

The two sat in a semi-awkward state of silence for a few moments before Helga sniffed quietly and asked, "Can I see him?" Sid wasn't sure what to make of the request. Yes, he got that she probably had loads of questions. Of course she would want to see him. What he couldn't make out by her tone was if it were a request that sprung from her continued denial of everything he'd told her, or if it were from a desire to get an answer out of Arnold herself.

Either way, it made him think that putting them together might be a fruitful endeavor for the investigation. Giving her a nod he answered with, "I'll see what I can do alright?" He watched her give him one limp half nod as he stood from his chair, and left the room. He was glad to have left the room. He hadn't realized how hard it would be to do all of that.

He did interrogations all the time. He and Jeremy would routinely swap back in fourth between good cop and bad cop. He'd never had any trouble dealing with grieving families, uncooperative spouses, or dirtbag felons, one would eventually become _numb_ to it all. What he had never been prepared for, and one can't assume to ever be prepared for it, is having something of this magnitude hit so close to home.

Granted, he, Arnold and Helga didn't exactly hang out, nor had they really been friends past high school and maybe the occasional party they would cross paths at on campus, but he knew these two people. Both had played their own individual hand, along with the rest of their P.S. 118 crowd, in helping him grow into a teenager and then into the adult that he was.

And now, it was incredibly painful for him recollect Arnold from golden boy status to dark monster and Helga from untouchable to wrecked. It almost wasn't fair that he had to be the one get the call for this.

He walked across the hallway, peering through the one way glass to see Jeremy still in his interrogation with Arnold, and having seen Jeremy just shoot him a concerning look, Sid reached out and clicked the audio button so he could hear what was being said.

* * *

Jeremy slowly removed the toothpick from his mouth and gestured at him with it, his eyes suddenly boring a hole through his captive, "That really pisses me off, you know. That you'd take her and use her that way."

"You're an idiot," The blonde repeated, licking his lips and then leaning back in his chair in a counter stance at Jeremy, "And I figured it would come to this with _you._ "

" _What?_ "

"We bought the wrong house. Focus your resources on better suspects and stop harassing me."

Jeremy scoffed, feeling his patience rapidly waning, "Your ex-girlfriend is dead under your back patio, and you think there is some other better suspect than the last man who last saw her alive?!" He incredulously asserted.

Arnold sat up, crossing his arms, his own face suggesting that he was rapidly waning in patience as well, " _You're_ the detective. That's _your_ job to figure out, and right now, I don't think you have a capability of doing that because you're _so_ consumed with your dislike for me. I get it. I do. I burned you many years ago, _badly,_ and maybe it still stings. But you need to get over it, because at this point, its really pathetic."

The detective's face turned to stone, his fists flexing a little as he had to thoroughly restrain himself from going across that table, " _I'm_ pathetic for having sympathy for the person _most_ caught up in this web outside of the girls you murdered? This doesn't have anything to _do_ with _us_. It has everything to do with being a decent Goddamn human being," By that point he was deeply scowling "She thinks that you actually love her, that you actually _want_ that life. She's going to find out that it was all a lie, and that reality is you _are_ a serial killer who is leaving a load of collateral damage in her life and everybody else involved with this. None of those girls deserved to die, and Helga didn't deserve to get wrapped up with somebody like you either. So, _yeah,_ if that makes me pathetic, so be it."

"You know what you're going to get Jeremy? A massive lawsuit brought down on this _entire_ place when you find the exact opposite to be true. _All_ because of _your_ incompetence," Arnold threatened, his jaw setting in a hard line as he bored a hole through the detective with his unblinking eyes, "We're done here."

Jeremy stood up in a muted huff, "For now," He growled out, and then leaned onto the table, putting his weight on the knuckles of his fists.

"I want to call my lawyer."

"Like I said, you're a smart guy, and you think you're smarter than everybody around you, but you _aren't_ smarter than _me_. I am going to find Monica, and I am going to nail your ass the the wall for what you've done to other those girls and for what you've done to Helga too." Scooting all of his folders together, he picked them up, and as he was exiting the room he heard:

"And I hope that you find her...happy, healthy, and just wanting away from her life. Really."

Jeremy turned his head and gave him a strange look. "We'll see, wont we?"

As soon as he walked out, he saw Sid leaning against the wall, staring with a long face that hadn't been perked at all by the energy drink he'd so recently consumed. "What the hell was all that about?"

Jeremy cut him a look and sighed, shaking his head in frustration, "He just taunted me. Did you see that shit? I just want to strangle that creep."

"This is multiple murder investigation, not a fucking soap opera." Sid said, finally bringing his eyes up from their fixation on the worn carpet, just in time to catch his partner roll his eyes and defiantly wave off his suggestion as crazy while starting to walk away. "I think we need to put them together, and see what we can get them talking about."

"Why? What did she say?"

"Nothing. I just think its possible she could get him to."

"Absolutely _not._ "

Sid exhaled, pushing off of the wall, "Come on, Jay. I just went in there and had to start destroying everything she knows. Do you think that was a picnic for me to do? No, but I think if we can get her mind turning a little more, she might be able to help us. I think she _knows_ things I don't even think she _realizes_ she does."

Jeremy turned back around, "No, what we _need_ is that search warrant to be expedited by that lazy ass judge! What? You actually think she's going to go in there and make him tell her what he is? Fat fucking chance!"

"Who knows what she might could get him talking about! He trusts her!"

"She isn't going to flip on him that quickly! She has _way_ too much invested in him for that and I'm not _torturing_ somebody that way," He said with air final-ness in his tone and started walking away again.

"Then you need to excuse yourself from this investigation, because you obviously still have some feelings that _cannot_ be present here," Sid warned while fixing him with a serious stare.

Jeremy spun around, "Are you _serious?_ "

Sid didn't budge a muscle, "Get it _together,_ or I will make sure the Lieutenant removes you from this. Are we _clear?_ "

Jeremy shook his head with an incredulous look besmirching his face, "Unreal. Do what you want." Sid half expected him to storm off to their desks or outside to hide out and smoke a cigarette that nobody but Sid knew that he would still have on occasion, and as he was known to do when he was angry about something. But he didn't, and it was a clear indication that he thought something good might come out of his idea. "I'm going to go grab a soda, it'll only take a second." He held up his index finger as he turned and breezed down the hallway and took a right.

Sid took the opportunity to make the move happen, walking back to the room Helga was in and beckoning her to come with him. She'd never exited a chair, or a room so fast in her life, looking around as she stepped into the hallway, seeing Sid stick a key into the door across from where she'd been and open it, waving her towards it.

* * *

"Arnold."

He snapped his head up, hearing the voice he hadn't heard in nearly two days, seeing her come plowing into the room like a little blonde storm. Jumping up from behind the table, "Helga," He replied, really surprised to see her, but rounding the corner, pulling her into a tight hug. To her, everything seemed normal with him. Like it should have been.

He couldn't be a killer. What murderer could possibly be that caring and affectionate. He pushed her away from him, still holding her at arms length as he looked her up and down, "Are you okay?" He asked.

She quickly nodded, "I'm fine." He enveloped her into another embrace, one that she only allowed to happen for a moment before beginning to try to extract herself from him. He seemed confused by it, until she looked back up at him and said, "Arnold, I don't know what's going on."

His face took on a weariness that ached of fatigue as he replied with, "I know. I don't either."

"You need to talk to me."

Her significant other nodded, turning to slide his chair towards him. She slid her around the table too and they both sat, facing one another. She waited for him to say something, but he acted like he just didn't want to. Finally he said, "They found Taylor under our patio."

Helga nodded at him, feeling the tears begin to well for the millionth time that day, "Why did you never tell me that she disappeared? Or that you were questioned about it?"

"Because I...didn't want you knowing anything about that whole situation."

"Why?"

"Because I had sex with her that night." Helga inhaled sharply, and Arnold steadfastly shook his head, "When you left the night that Jeremy showed up, and went to Phoebe's, I had _no_ idea if you'd _ever_ come back, because you wouldn't give me an answer about _us_ before you left. But I was _still_ breaking things off with her, _regardless_ of if you wanted to be with me or not. The next night, I broke up with her but not before...not before...fucking her. I don't know why I did it...still angry I guess. It was a _horrible_ thing to do because I had just suggested that _we_...start something serious. But then you came back the morning after that...and I knew...I knew if you knew I'd done that...there would be _no_ taking me seriously."

Helga was rubbing her temples at that point, trying to figure out _where_ to begin with all that. As much as that bothered her to know he'd _kept_ that from her, she was also well aware of the fact that, it was a long time ago, and he _was_ right, they hadn't even been an _official_ couple, and she really hadn't any room to be judgemental of past indiscretions. At that time, she'd been sleeping with him _and_ Jeremy for over a month, and she were sure that he'd probably looked back on it with disdain on more than one occasion too.

"Arnold...I _really_ don't _care_ about _any_ of that at the moment. I _don't._ We've got it okay? We've been established that you and I were a pair of grade 'A' whore _fucking_ sluts with each other." Still, he wasn't getting away from it. She was pissed about the lies more than anything, "But, you start a relationship with me and you feel it's appropriate to hide the fact that you got _questioned_ for your ex-girlfriend's disappearance?" She angrily hissed at him. "Something that I have to find out about five and half _fucking_ years later after you are arrested in the _fucking_ airport for murder?!"

"I'm _not_ a murder, and I didn't want to scare you off!" He shouted back in an elevated whisper, "What would you have thought if I just popped up a couple weeks later and said, 'Hey, Taylor's missing, I got interrogated about it, because apparently I was the last one in her apartment, fucking her and then breaking up with her, but they let me go, trust me though, I had nothing to do with it'? You would have gotten yourself as far away from me as you could and as quickly as possible."

Helga rolled her eyes, "It doesn't matter! You lied about it! Now I'm wondering what else you've been lying about! Mexico? When were you planning to tell me that you withdrew that much money?!"

Arnold sighed and dropped his head into his hands, propping his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry about not telling you that I withdrew all that," He picked his head back up and cast her an apologetic look, "I...I knew you'd have a lot of anxiety about traveling with that amount, and I didn't want that, but...I was concerned with our debit cards getting shut down for suspicious activity in a foreign country. I just wanted us to have a good time, without any hiccups."

"Then you talk to _me_ and tell me these things! You _talk_ to me!" She was leaning forward, heatedly stabbing her index finger at the floor, "Because now...now I don't _know_ what to think!"

"I know, and I'm sorry I just..."

"—You act all weird about them tearing up the concrete, you suddenly want to go on a babymoon that you've never mentioned _any_ interest in whatsoever until _two_ days ago, you withdraw a _ridiculous_ sum of money from our account without telling me, and you've acted about as distant as a—"

"—I know it looks bad, okay?!" He finally admitted, "I screwed up royally. I did. I wanted us to get away so we could clear our heads. That's _all_. I had no idea that they would find Taylor under there." Pausing for a second he let go of a worn breath of air and said, "I'm sorry that I've been distracted lately, a lot of it was work, and this crap and...and...Monica."

"Monica?" That name seemed to coming up a whole lot lately.

Arnold rubbed his face, "The head nurse on my floor."

"I know that," Helga quipped, a little on the harsh side.

"She's still missing, and...she was my work buddy, or...I guess you could call her my work best friend. I don't know. You spend a lot of time in a place like a hospital you tend to get to know people, but of all the people I worked with, I liked her the most. And she made a lot of long nights way more enjoyable with conversation," He explained, but the entire time Helga was becoming more, and more, confused by what he was saying.

About as nonplussed as one could possibly be, she finally managed to spit out, "I've heard you mention her all of _twice,_ and now you're telling me she was your BFF at work? What the _hell_ does this have to do with—"

"—Because I started thinking about her still being missing and how...and how whoever put those girls on our property probably got her too..." He trailed off and looked up and away, leaving Helga staring at him with quite a bit of undesirable thoughts beginning to turn in her head.

She licked her lips, already feeling her throat begin to tighten up even just thinking about what she was about to ask. "Arnold..." It came out rather dry, her eyes shifting from the table back up to him, "Were you sleeping with her?" Phoebe had been right, given the right circumstances, there would always return the thin layer of distrust among one another. She didn't want to believe it, but given their past, it warranted asking.

And doing so was tearing her apart inside.

"What?" Arnold's face blanched as his eyes rapidly cut back to her face, seeing a few tears slip down the sides of her face. Brow furrowing hard he half whispered, "Why would you even ask that?" looking almost as if he were insulted that she even would inquire.

* * *

On the other side of the glass, Sid uncrossed one of his arms and began gesturing with his index finger in the air, "What do you want to bet that he _was?_ " He asked his partner, but never looking away from the portal.

"Nothing. Because I'm almost _positive_ at this point that he was. It's probably _why_ she's missing now."

Sid turned his head towards him, "I don't know man. It seems odd that he would pick off another woman close to him. Especially if he'd done it once already. He _had_ to have known that it would raise suspicion."

"I'm not saying he _intended_ to kill her. I'm saying that...maybe she got clingy or maybe she threatened to out their affair to Helga. He had a lot to lose if that were to happen."

"Hypothetically of course."

"Dude's a monster, who the hell knows why."

* * *

"—Don't _lie_ to me," She demanded while wiping her eyes off, watching his mouth bob open and closed a few times.

He sighed, shaking his head, reaching out to place his hand on her knee, and for the first time ever, feeling her flinch at his touch, "Sweetheart, no of course I wasn't," His voice was so sweet, and caring, "I...never even saw her outside of the hospital. She was just...the person I hung around most there and would talk to about...everything, TV shows, all of our remodeling ideas and...who I vented to about our...baby struggles." Helga nodded.

And she believed him.

Arnold scooted his chair right up to the front of hers and pulled her into him, letting her tuck her face into his neck as he rubbed her back. "I'm sorry. For everything. For all the lies. I didn't want to scare you off, and I didn't want you worrying while we were gone. I wouldn't _dream_ of deliberately doing _anything_ that would push you away from me," He told her in a very low voice, that only she could hear while nuzzling her, "You know what they're doing..." He trailed off, glancing briefly at the glass mirror. "And why they let you in here."

Helga nodded, "I asked to see you, but I know exactly why they let me," She replied in a equally quiet voice.

"They know if they can get you to abandon me, I'll have no way to really fight this," He whispered, "And I don't trust Jeremy. At _all_ ," She nodded, understanding completely what he was implying. "Call Pete," He requested, referring to the contract lawyer she frequently used draft and notarize large commercial contracts with, "See if he knows a good defense attorney."

She pulled back and soundly kissed him on the lips, "Alright," She kissed him again, lingering on his lips for as long as possible, "This is going to get dealt with." As much as she didn't want to leave him there, _alone,_ if she were going to deal with anything, she had to _go_ take care of it. "I need to go," She said and slowly stood up, he following her lead.

Wrapping his arms around her one more time he told her, "I love you."

"Forever. Not maybe," She finished and pulled away from him, giving him one last look before knocking on the door, assuming it to be locked. Their eye contact broke when the door crept open and she slipped through.

On the other side she realized it was Jeremy who had opened it for her. She gave him and Sid the briefest of looks she was capable of, saying, "I'm leaving," And started walking away down the hallway, back towards the way she'd come in many hours ago, already bringing out her cell phone to call Phoebe.

Jeremy took a few steps behind her before stopping and asking, "You need us to take you anywhere?"

"Fuck off Jay," She kept on walking until she rounded the corner, holding the phone to her ear as she heard it begin to ring. By the time she had made it outside, her friend answered, "Pheebs, hey...listen..." She began with a worn sigh, running her free hand through the top of her hair, "I know it's the middle of the day but, do you think you could pick me up? I'm at the police station...I'll...I'll explain when you get here. Yeah...thanks. Bye." She red buttoned her phone, thumbing over to her other contacts to find Pete. She pressed the call button and leaned back against the brick wall.

* * *

In the span of twenty-five minutes that it took Phoebe to arrive, Helga had gone from leaning against the wall to squatting in front of it as a fresh wave of nausea hell washed over her, which had made it damn near impossible to have a conversation with Pete and subsequently, John, whom he'd referred her to. Frankly, she wasn't a hundred percent sure if it was morning sickness or her beginning to come down from all the adrenaline that had been driving her for two days? Maybe it was stress.

Or maybe it was some franken-combination of all of that. She didn't really care. She just needed it to scram so she could focus fully what she needed to do. But, who was she kidding, she didn't know _what_ to do! Besides getting an expensive attorney. Which she was doing. What was she to do _otherwise?_ Her husband, the love of her life, and the father of her child, was sitting in a precinct, under arrest for the murders of at _least_ eleven women, one being a former girlfriend.

Talk about the most unbelievable circumstances under the sun.

And it made her feel, for the first time ever, absolutely _helpless_. His fate—their fate was effectively in another person's hands and the lack of control in the situation was _killing_ her.

Phoebe pulled to the curb and Helga ended her call, promising to be by his office in the next hour or so before sluggishly skipping into her friends awaiting vehicle, collapsing into the first comfortable seat she'd been in in hours. "Helga, what is going on?" Her friend hadn't even pulled away from the sidewalk before she was asking.

Helga sighed, leaning forwards and dropping her head into her awaiting palms, propping her elbows on her knees. "Arnold's in jail. He got arrested at the airport."

"What?!" Phoebe's eyes bugged. "What did he _do?_ Why was he at the airport?"

"We were going to Mexico," Helga quietly replied.

Her friend's brow furrowed, "Your wedding is two weeks away, why were you on the way to Mexico now?"

"I really don't know at this point," Helga said, almost reflectively, still wondering herself why they agreed to such a large last minute travel plan. "We got picked up at LAX. They arrested him for the murders of the eleven girls they found at our house."

"Oh my God..."

"One of them was Taylor Mendez."

Phoebe glanced at her friend, who finally sat back up and back into the headrest, "Who?"

"The girl he was dating while we were messing around with one another. They found her at our house. I didn't even know that she was missing."

"Helga I..." Her friend took a deep breath, "I don't even know what to say."

"Then don't say anything. Please, just _don't._ " The blonde implored, shutting her eyes, "Just take me to my house."

Phoebe didn't say another word as she drove them out of Hillwood, into the outskirts to her friends house. When they pulled into the driveway, Helga wordlessly got out and marched to the garage and punched in the code, lifting one of the doors. She hadn't told Phoebe goodbye or to wait and Phoebe being the friend she was, figured it would be wise to follow her in.

By the time she came through door, her friend was rummaging through a kitchen drawer, it obviously being their catch all drawer based on the stuff she was tossing out of it. "Helga?" Phoebe meekly tried. Helga slammed that door shut and walked off into the living room, yanking open the drawer on an old secretary desk and rooting through it. "Where the _fuck_ are my goddamn keys at?!" She yelled aloud.

"Helga," Phoebe tried again, "Please clam down."

Her friend slammed that drawer shut too and spun around, giving her a very pissed look, "Calm down?! How am I suppose to calm down?! They arrested Arnold at the _airport!_ I-I am fucking _sick_ as a dog with morning sickness and the bodies are fucking _piling_ up around us! I think I have a right to be having a damn break down at this point, so don't tell me to fucking _calm_ down!" Helga huffed back at Phoebe, throat feeling so painfully tight as she was fighting hard not to collapse in tears.

"Please...just take a breath. I'll help you find your keys so you can go do whatever you need to. Is that okay?" Phoebe asked take a slow step towards her. Helga ran a hand over her face and back through her hair, but thankfully nodded, accepting the help. "What do they look like? Any special key chain?"

The blonde shook her head, "It's just a black key fob with the logo on one side, on a ring with two keys, ones brass looking and the other is sliver."

* * *

A few more hours ticked by for Arnold. He'd been moved into a regular, non-interrogation style room and locked in. By then he'd soundly passed out, head tucked into his folded arms on the desk as if he were back in middle school. He wasn't sure what was keeping him in that room, other than him evoking his right to an attorney. A part of him had wished they would have just stuck him in a damn holding cell again, at least he'd have had a half-ass cot to stretch out on.

The door clicked open, "Arnold?" He didn't emerge from unconsciousness until he felt the table shake a little and then vaguely making out a, "Mr. Shortman?"

Arnold sat up, groggily seeing a squat, bearded middle aged man sitting in front of him with a briefcase sitting on the table and two cups of coffee beside it. "Yeah?" He asked.

"John Tennant," He reached his hand across the table of his new client to shake, "I'm going to be representing you." The blonde perked up, shooting his hand out to shake the attorney's. "I got a call from your wife saying that you were in a bit of a pickle down here."

"Uh, yeah, you could say that."

"I didn't know if you liked coffee, but if you do, I figured you might could use one," He grabbed one of the cups and sat it down in front of Arnold, who graciously nodded, popping the top and taking a sip.

"Thank you."

"Okay so, here's what's going to happen," John began after taking a quick sip from his own coffee, "I've already been filled on the situation, but I want you to tell me everything alright? I've got to have complete honesty from you, our we clear about that? I'm not a man who enjoys surprises, so the fewer of them we have, the better it's going to be for us."

Arnold nodded, "I understand. I'll tell you anything I know."

"I'm going to ask you this once. I ask all of my new clients this and no matter which way you answer, its not going change my representation of you. It's completely confidential whatever you say, client to attorney. Not even your wife will know what your answer is."

"Sure."

John gave him a squared look and asked, "Did you do it?"

* * *

 **Two Days Later.**

"So basically, right now, we have a mostly circumstantial case here," The special prosecutor, Claire, said, looking over everything that had been laid out on her desk. The lieutenant, and everybody else involved in the investigation standing around.

"Mostly circumstantial? His ex-girlfriend was under his patio! That's pretty coincidental if you ask me."

Clair nodded in agreement, "And, I agree, however, a defense would just argue that she was there before they moved into the house. Right now I have no way of proving that he was the one killing them other than, my gut tells me that something doesn't add up. Coincidences like this, don't just happen. We can all agree on that."

Sid and Jeremy nodded.

The lieutenant grumbled, "She needs more to work with to convince a potential jury with."

"We're waiting on the search warrant for the house," Sid replied.

"I'll see what I can do about that," Clair proposed.

* * *

 **Four Days Later.**

Despite not wanting to be back in that place, and despite Phoebe's begging of her to stay with them, Helga had made the decision to move herself back into the house for two reasons, and two reasons only. She wanted to sleep in her own bed again, and she couldn't justify continuing to pay a mortgage on a place she wasn't staying in. She dreaded seeing the back yard, their destroyed patio, and she hated having to let the dogs out there. By the end of the day, on the last day she'd seen Arnold—she'd talked to him once over the phone—everybody knew. It hadn't hit the news yet or anything, but their entire inner circle knew he had been arrested.

Somehow, in the mix of all the stress, and anxiety over every, she still had to find time to do work. To carry on and run a Goddamn business. Carry on like nothing was wrong. She thought she might explode on some days. It was madness!

It was later on, the follow Saturday night, while she was cross legged on her bed, putting together a report that her phone started vibrating madly on the bedside table. She looked over, seeing it was her parents landline and wearily answered it, not _really_ feeling like talking.

"Hey," She distractedly answered, continuing to type away.

She heard her dad reply back, " _Hey Helga."  
_

"Hey dad. What's uh...what's up?"

 _"I was just calling to see how you're doing. We haven't heard from you in a few days."_

"Same as usual. Busy, tired, and stressed," She sounded a little more abrupt than she had intended to be with him.

Bob paused for a second, "Listen, _your mother and I, well...we're worried about you."_

Helga ran her fingers over her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose replying, "I know. I'm fine. Really. It's just...a shitty situation, and I'm doing my best to handle it and work too."

 _"Yeah, I know that. But, you know you don't have to stay out there in that house. We're...actually a little concerned about you being there by yourself anyway."  
_

"Dad..."

 _"I know your mother would like it if you came home for a little while, at least until Arnold's out and home,"_ The idea of her going back home and living, even temporarily sounded absolutely _awful_ to her. And not because there was anything wrong with her parents. There wasn't. She'd actually gotten along _great_ with them once she'd moved out and her and Bob's alpha personalities didn't have to share.

But she got it though, with Olga halfway across the country with her own family, she was their only daughter nearby, and no doubtedly, toting around what would become their 'favorite grandchild' being she'd be the only one they'd see more than twice a year. Which meant they were _extra_ concerned with her well being.

Still, as much as she didn't want to _be_ in her house, she just couldn't do it. Just couldn't. Her parents meant well, but there was something entirely too surrendering about it. She wasn't about to go crawling to mommy and daddy just because life had thrown her a...very _unique_ curve ball.

She was Helga _fucking_ Pataki after all.

"I appreciate it but, this is my house. I just need to stay here."

 _"Well, alright. But if you change your mind..."_

"I know, I know."

 _"So uh...have you heard anything this week?"_

Helga sighed, "No I haven't. They haven't even plead him yet. It's like they're just holding him until they can find something that sticks."

 _"Something just doesn't seem right about that."_

"No it doesn't," She glanced over at the clock, seeing the time before saying, "So, not trying to rush off the phone, but I'm in the middle of some work stuff that I've got to get done."

Bob snorted a little, _"All you do is work."_

"I get it honestly," She replied with a half-laugh herself. "I'll talk to you guys later."

 _"Alright have a good night."_

"You too, bye."

 _"Bye,"_ And before Bob could his the end button on their phone, Helga could overhear him say, _"I tried. She insisted on staying out there,"_ Obviously to her mother.

* * *

 **Monday Morning.**

She'd stayed up way too late doing things.

Entirely.

And while she hadn't _worked_ late into the night, after laying in bed for over an hour, trying to sleep, and being thoroughly unable to get her mind to shut down, she had gotten up and proceeded to clean things. Which she hated doing. She was no slob, but she didn't keep a show house either. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but she just felt the _need_ tidy. Like there was something calming about making sure everything were in place. She got the psychology of it. But that had morphed into her ending up downstairs, and then on the couch watching TV until she finally fell somewhat asleep at around 4:15 that morning.

And there it was, a little before eight in the morning, and she was trying to find the drive to get her ass out the door for a full days worth of stuff she had planned. It was there, while she were pondering if she would be able to make it even until mid morning, standing at the kitchen bar with her precious one cup of coffee, that her doorbell chimed.

Nothing that early in the morning could _ever_ mean anything good.

Dreadfulness and a mild amount of panic pierced through her body, giving her that quick, heated sweat feel that left her feeling hot inside. The dogs were going nuts, as usual, barking at the door—God if she could remove their vocal cords she would—and she couldn't get to it fast enough to shut them up. "Go to the living room." She pointed way, "Go!" They ran off, but not where she wanted them to.

She pulled the door open seeing Jeremy, Sid and a handful of other police officers standing on her porch, her eyes thinning defensively at them.

"Hey Helga," Jeremy greeted.

"What do you want Jay?"

It was then that she realized he'd been holding a folded piece of paper, which he then handed over to her, "I've got a warrant to search the house."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..."

* * *

 **A/N:** I decided to forgo the cliffhanger ending this time around. The chapter was getting awfully long so I decided to just end it there. So what about Arnold though? Is he telling the truth or is he about to take everybody on a goose chase. Has he got Helga under his spell? Who's right?! Who's wrong?! Who isn't what they seem?! Hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for all the comments!


	7. These many detailed things

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Yeah, I know. It's been awhile. To be fair, I did warn of incredibly slow updates because of my other story. Well, I'm back, and guess what? This chapter ratchets up the heat! So, I hope you enjoy it, or hate it, it's meant to be conflicting so either or may happen!

* * *

 **These many detailed things.**

 **Like broken nails and plastic rings.**

"Trust me. I don't want to be here anymore than you do," Jeremy calmly replied, appearing apprehensive about taking one more step towards her. He knew she could be downright feisty when she wanted to be. And she hadn't looked like she was in a particularly good mood to begin with.

"We've got no choice Helga..." Sid said from where he was standing right behind his partner.

 _They_ had a choice, but she was well aware that _she_ didn't. She couldn't bar them from her house. Like they would find anything anyway. But just the thought of them coming in, and tearing apart her and Arnold's already badly damaged home was putting her stomach in sick twisting knots. She was struggling to _want_ to stay there as it was and that...them standing there...well that was just the fucking _cherry_ on the shit of a sundae she was being force fed.

"Whatever..." She rolled her eyes, knowing how lame and immature she sounded, and _looked_ , but honestly not giving a rat's ass at that point. She turned and walked back in, already fishing for her phone to begin the aggravating process of rescheduling the work appointments she had that day. She wasn't about to leave these people alone in her house. Not by a long shot. In the middle of all of that, her dogs were going berserk watching all of the strangers entering the house, and she made no attempt to silence or crate them.

Hillwood's finest could deal with the wrath of two miniature beagles. And if they laid a hand on either one of them, her lawyer was going to be the first to know.

It was petty, she was well aware. But, if they were making her hurt, she'd make them hurt right back. If it came to that. Honestly she just wanted them gone. The faster they tore through her house and found nothing, the faster they would be out of there and the faster Arnold would be home, because they would have, obviously... _nothing._

Nothing besides an unbelievable coincidence.

One hour, turned into two, turned into three, and that was when Helga realized that she and Arnold had more stuff in their house than she'd ever realized. Their dwelling looked like a case of extreme looting, with crap thrown everywhere, and what appeared to be sheer chaos. Out in the garage they had gone through both her own car and were combing away at her work SUV in the driveway, picking out hair fibers and anything that could be of _use_ to them. It was absurd to watch. She bitterly laughed about the fact that every single hair they were bagging up would either be hers or Arnold's. She was sure of that. They were the only two people, besides maybe Phoebe and Gerald or course. The only other two people, that were ever in their vehicles. All she could think about was how much of a _enormous_ waste of time and tax payer money it all was.

Still, she watched them like a hawk almost the entire time, answering their stupid little questions about crap and just generally making sure they didn't break something. And it was just stressing her _out_. To the point of wanting a drink. She'd _never_ been a regular drinker, enjoying a glass a wine _maybe_ once a week, but she'd never wanted to drink so badly in her life as she did at that point. The anxiety had to be visible all over her. Had to be. It was rolling off of of her in too thick of bands to not be noticeable. And she just wanted something to numb the nerves. Or perhaps something to punch.

She was trying her best though.

Across the garage, one officer was rooting through some boxes that were stacked on the floor next to some storage shelves. He pulled a handful of jewelry out and declared, "I think I've got something." As Jeremy and Sid hustled to go see, Helga focused in on him like a laser, boring into the guy with a vengeance that she'd practically already made personal. Yeah, he _thought_ alright.

The two detectives began pawing through the box themselves, retrieving a few necklaces, some rings, a bracelet or two and a few pairs of earrings. Holding a few of the pieces in his hand, Jeremy turned back and looked over at his ex-girlfriend with a questioning eye, "These yours?"

Helga felt her jaw clinch, wanting very much to snap his head off. She wanted to belittle him for being such an idiot _,_ and had plans to do exactly that, but as she stepped closer to take a gander at what he was parading at her, she quickly discovered...that she couldn't. She couldn't because she had never, ever seen _any_ of that jewelry before in her _life_. Her eyes flickered back to the awaiting faces of her ex-boyfriend and former classmate, not wishing to say anything about it, but knowing she couldn't. She had to be honest. "No," She replied, feeling the wind let out of her sails.

"Bag it," Sid told the awaiting officer.

Helga just stood there and stared as they pulled quite a few more pieces out of that box and placed them in little evidence baggies. Now her mind was really spinning. She wasn't a jewelry wearer. Certainly not to the point of her having spare crap in a random box out in her garage. She had a thumb ring, her engagement ring, a necklace that she'd had since she was eighteen, that she _never_ took off, and a pair of pearl earrings in a small box upstairs. That was the _extent_ to her jewelry collection. So what exactly was this other stuff, and why was it in her garage?

 _Why?_

There _had_ to be a logical explanation for it. There had to be! Because the alternative was absolutely ludicrous. Her husband wasn't a serial killer.

He just _wasn't!_

He couldn't be.

While she was lost in all that thought, Sid had come up to her and wearily touched her on the arm, "We need the keys to his car," He requested. She blinked and then looked out of the garage to see a flatbed tow truck slowly backing down her wooded driveway.

"You're taking it?"

Sid nodded, "We're having the lab process his."

Helga exhaled a depleted sigh and walked back into the kitchen to fetch Arnold's keys from the hook hanging on the wall, and regrettably, if not a little ruefully, plopped them into Sid's awaiting hand. The detective de-ringed the ignition key and handed it off to another officer who, proceeded to start the Four Runner, backing it out of the garage, and then up onto the flatbed.

God, it felt so intrusive. Them just...taking his stuff as they wanted.

Their stuff.

All so they could try to prove him guilty of something he _didn't_ do.

While she was standing there, watching the whole thing, Sid was busy examining the rest of their suspect's key ring. "What are all these to?" He asked. Helga turned her attention back to him, with raised, yet annoyed, eyebrows. How done she was with that entire day.

" _What?_ "

If Sid noticed her annoyance with him, and she wasn't exactly hiding it, he certainly didn't appear bothered by it, "These keys. What are they to?" It was an innocent enough question. Helga looked at the ring laying in his open palm, and began pointing to each one.

"House, parent's cabin, safe, spare to the tahoe, our safety deposit box and..." She stopped when her finger landed on the last key. It was smallish, with a short toothed shaft and a bean shaped body. It looked like it belonged to a padlock. But, it didn't go to anything that she was personally aware of, "I'm not sure about that one. It's probably for something at the hospital," She reasoned. And it was a perfectly logical line of reasoning. She knew that they had lockers and what not there. Maybe they had locks and keys too.

It seemed reasonable to Sid as well, who nodded, "Thanks," He replied and then bagged the keys in an evidence envelope.

* * *

 **Two days later.**

Helga walked past the guard after being security checked and down to the awaiting counter, fronted by a slab of bullet proof plexiglass that she could see Arnold sitting behind. He looked like crap. Utter hell really. His face was all scruffy, his hair was a every which a way, and the bags were deep and black pits under his eyes. He definitely hadn't been sleeping well. Or at all. That was obvious. But, he was elated to see her, his green eyes gaining some much needed spark as he hurriedly picked up the phone while she sat down and grabbed the other end. "Hey," She smiled, wishing it wasn't as forlorn as it was.

"God, it's so good to see you baby," He breathed, shutting his eyes for a moment, appearing as if he were collecting his thoughts. She could only imagine what he'd been going through in that place.

She let out a tired sigh herself, "I know..."

"How is everything?" He asked, opening his fatigued eyes.

She shook her head, exhaling a frustrated sighed, "Well, they tore the inside of our house apart a few days ago. How's that for starters."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you're having to deal with all of this."

Helga ran a hand through her hair as she nodded and then propped it up on the counter, "Arnold...they found some jewelry in a box in our garage...do you know what that is?"

His brow scrunched as he stared at her, "The garage?" He repeated.

"Yeah."

His mouth then turned downward into a scowl and he shook his head, "No, I don't know..." He trailed off briefly before correcting with, "Oh no, actually, _yeah_ , it was probably some of the boxes I found in the attic. Remember a few weeks ago, I started dragging all that stuff out from the past owners?"

Helga nodded. She did indeed remember him rummaging through the attic and bringing down a few boxes that he threw out into the garage to discard later. "Yeah, yeah...of course," She half-smiled, "I just...I didn't even think about that when they were asking if all of it were mine."

"I honestly didn't even look through all of them as I was bringing them down. Looked like a bunch of junk," Arnold shrugged.

"And it probably is. But I think they _think_ they've got something."

"Well, they can think that all they want, I guess. Anyway, how are you doing?"

She shrugged, throwing him a fake smile, "My should-be-husband is sitting in prison for murder. How do you think?" Immediately being regretful of saying it in such a low-key sarcastic manner. It wasn't as if he were deliberately doing it.

"I know," Arnold sighed, running his free hand over the top of his head, "Just...can you please not stress yourself out too badly? It's not worth it."

Helga rolled her eyes, "Really?"

"Look, this sucks. It _really_ sucks. But...I think John is a competent guy. He's going to dice right through all of this crap, and make them look like fools," He reasoned with a subtle smile, "Alright?"

She slightly nodded as well, "He better for the amount of money we're paying him."

"Everything is going to be okay. The last thing I want is you turning into a ball of anxiety and stress, which we both know you like to do sometimes, and it stressing out our little one."

Helga snorted, "Yeah, little ole' me and my womanly hysteria. Criminey, football head."

* * *

Later that day, Sid and Jeremy stepped through the open door to Monica's apartment, casually observing the chaotic search for evidence already in full swing. They had surmised pretty quickly that they were no longer looking for a missing person who was going to turn up on their own. With that in consideration, the logical next step was for forensics to comb through her apartment, much like they had Helga and Arnold's house, looking for anything that might could tell him what happened.

"Anything notable?" Jeremy asked the guy in charge.

"So far the place has been clean. We've bagged a lot of hair evidence through each room."

"Good, just make sure they're marking exactly where each piece comes from, alright?"

"For sure."

* * *

 **Two days later. Arraignment. Court.**

Arnold stood in the small court room, lined with light colored wood trim and the ugliest carpeted floors he'd ever seen. Made for resilience, not style obviously. It was early afternoon, and he was dead tired from the ongoing inability to sleep on an uncomfortable cell cot. His lawyer, John stood to the left of him and a woman he had yet to met or see prior stood some feet away from him, at a completely separate desk to his right. He assumed she was with prosecution. She looked like she meant business. One of those that would try to win at any cost types. They were only standing there for a few minutes before the judge slid in from a side door and took a seat at this bench.

"Your honor," The woman began addressing the sitting judge before them, "I'm prosecutor Clair McNeil appearing on behalf of the people."

John cleared his throat, "Good afternoon your honor, I'm John Tenant appearing on behalf of Arnold Shortman."

"Mr. Shortman, do you want to give us your name and address for the court record?" The judge asked as he peered over his black rimmed glasses.

"Arnold Phillip Shortman. One sixteen Redwood Road, Hillwood Washington," Arnold replied.

"Mr. Shortman I want to advise you that the charges brought about on May 24th of this year in your native home county, count one homicide murder in the first degree...that is with per-meditation of Britney Ross, Amy Fredrick, Morgan Harris, Marie Styles, Sarah Copland, Jessica Tolberson, Kelly Dennis, Stephanie Peterson, Taylor Mendez and two Jane Doe's. That is a felony, punishable by death. Do you understand the nature of the charge?"

Arnold briefly glanced at David who gave him a subtle nod before look back at the judge, "Yes."

"You have an absolute right to be represented by an attorney, noted by Mr. Tenant's appearance today on your behalf. In the event that you cannot afford an attorney, the court will appoint an attorney to act on your behalf. You have a right to a trial in this matter before the court or before a jury. You also have an absolute right to remain silent as anything in writing or anything you say could be used against you in court. You have a right to have Mr. Tenant present during any questioning you might consent to. Do you understand those constitutional rights Mr. Shortman?"

The blonde nodded, "Yes."

The judge's eyes slowly shifted towards John, "Mr. Tenant, how is Mr. Shortman pleading on this."

"Not guilty, your honor."

"Very well. Mr. Shortman, one of your important rights as a Washington citizen is the right to a preliminary examination on this felony charge at the district court level. At that preliminary examination, it will be the burden of the people, and the prosecuting attorney to establish probable cause to believe that crimes have been committed and that you committed them."

* * *

 **One Week Later.**

Sid and Jeremy stepped off the elevator at Hillwood Medical, floor five which Arnold and Monica had primarily worked on together. It was a quiet floor. Very quiet, they pair noted as they strolled to the nurses station to see a few of them gathered and in mid-conversation with each other.

"Good afternoon ladies," Jeremy smiled, "Detective Kirk, this is my partner Detective Morettie," He thumbed to Sid, "We're hoping you all could answer some questions about Arnold Shortman and Monica Davenport for us."

The group of five women blinked at them and then exchanged a few looks between themselves, "Yeah, sure," The redhead sitting on the charting computer shrugged. "What do you guys want to know? Whether we think he did it?"

"Any of you recall Mr. Shortman behaving oddly or saying anything odd around the time Ms. Davenport went missing?" Sid asked.

"I mean...he was uppity about her disappearing," The small blonde woman, standing the furthest away from the counter pipped up, "But we all were...are. She's our friend."

"What was the relationship between the two?"

"Well, we're all colleagues. However, she is our head nurse so she does work a lot more with our doctors for patient care plans and what not."

"I see."

"But..." One of the other women chirped, "You're _really_ asking if there something going on between them aren't you?"

"Just trying to gauge their dynamic is all," Sid replied with courteous smile. "But since you brought it up. Was there?"

The women blonde to the left of him tisked and shifted her weight onto one foot, "There was _definitely_ something going on between them."

At that, Jeremy's chipped brow raised slightly, "Oh really?" Sid wasn't oblivious to his sudden interest either.

"No, there wasn't," The woman at the computer quipped back in a scolding manner at her co-worker, "Were they good friends? _Sure._ But it's hardly a crime for a man and a woman to be work friends these day."

"Speak for yourself..." Another one of the nurses replied, "Those two were _constantly_ off together by themselves. Taking long lunches and what not. If there wasn't something going on, I'll be shocked."

"Oh _please_ ," Yet another chimed in, "I had to work with him one-on-one for two weeks over a month ago, covering for her while she was on vacation. _Literally,_ all the guy could gush about was how excited he was that he was going to be a dad because _apparently_ , he and his fiance' had been trying for a long time. _Oh,_ and how excited he was to be marrying—his words now—the love of his life. It was so precious it was sickening. _So_ , I'm sorry, but _no_...I don't believe for a _second_ that he was fooling around with _anybody,_ much less her."

"Okay, so..." Jeremy trailed off for a moment, and Sid noticed him spin his toothpick tucked in his cheek in a very agitated manor, "With that being said, do any of you have any reason to believe that he could have anything to do with her disappearance?"

Every one of the nurses gave them the most absurd looks they were capable of expressing, "Absolutely not."

"And I don't believe for a second either that he had anything to do with that craziness going on at his house either."

"Fair enough. One more question," Sid told them as he reached into his pocket and retrieved the small key he'd removed from Arnold's key ring and placed it on the counter top, "Does this belong to anything around here? A locker or something?"

The nurse sitting at the desk shook her head, "No. All of our lockers around here are combo types."

"Ah," Sid nodded and slid the key off the counter and returned it to his pocket, "Well, would one of you mind showing me where his is?"

"Sure," The nurse that had vehemently defended Arnold's honor motioned for the detectives to follow her. She lead them a short distance down the quiet hallway before turning into an off limits area, carding open a door and pointing to a wall of half-size school like lockers on a wall. "Number 18," She told them, "If you need anything else, I'll be back up at the nurses station," And with that, she turned and left the two men.

"You get anything out of all that gossip?" Jeremy asked with a annoyed sigh.

Sid raised an eyebrow at him, sending his mouth downward in a look of thought before subtly smirking, "Well, I now know that he and Helga apparently aren't so good at that whole...reproducing thing."

At that, his friend rolled his eyes and shook his head while folding his arms across his chest, "Really?"

Sid chuckled, "Boy howdy you're so easily flustered, but no, I didn't find much of value out of all that. Hopefully there is something good in this locker."

"Yeah, maybe..."

Sid grabbed the lock and gave it a brief examination, "Looks like a four number. Give me some guesses."

His partner sighed, "I don't know man...try his birthday."

"I know it's in October but I don't know the day..." Sid replied as he reached for the circular pad lock and began fidgeting with the dial.

"Then go through every day," Jeremy suggested, crossing his arms and proceeding to watch Sid spin through number after number, all thirty-one days of the month of October.

"Well that was a waste," Sid grumbled in agitation.

"Try his birthday year only…"

Sid tried, but without any luck.

"Try just this year," The fellow detective spun that in, again to no avail, "Try...One, Two, Three, Four..." Again, to no avail. "One, one, one, one." Nope. Jeremy sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair, thinking for a moment before finally rolling his eyes, "Try zero, three, two, six."

Sid spun the numbers in, only this time, the lock popped open like a champ, leading his eyes to cut back to his friend in a newly bewildered stare, "What the hell man?"

"It's Helga's birthday," Jeremy replied, rolling his eyes once more before nodding to the door, "Well, lets see what's in it then."

Sid unclasped the lock from the loop and pulled the door open. Arnold's locker was relatively bare, and the only things they immediately saw was a folded up tee-shirt, a half drunk bottle of water, and a small calendar attached by a magnet to the side. "Hmm...he's a minimalist."

"What were you expecting? A bloody knife?" Jeremy chuckled slightly as he reached around his friend and plucked the calendar from the locker.

"Maybe a note with all the answers. Is that too much to ask?" Sid replied with a half smile.

"Or maybe something to tell us what the key is for."

"Yeah, that too."

"He's got a pad lock for something, somewhere."

Sid snap pointed at Jeremy, eyebrows raised high in thought, "Her parents have a cabin. That we already have a main key too. He might have something there."

* * *

Sid went wandering into his and the guys favorite bar, giving a quick look around before seeing Brian wave at him from a corner booth. He marched over, sliding into the opposite side, seeing a beer already awaiting him, "Hey man, how's it going?"

"Eh, the usual. I got you a miller," He gestured to the bottle, "She just dropped it off."

"Thanks," Sid said, gratefully as he downed a hefty gulp.

"How was your week?"

"A lot of running in circles."

"Nothing new?"

"We just spent several hours at the hospital today interviewing Arnold's co-workers."

"Yeah? How'd that go?"

"Aggravating."

"Let me guess? Nobody saw a _thing._.." Brian chuckled darkly.

Sid took another swig of his beer, "I'll say. So you know about his missing co-worker right?"

"Yeah."

"Jay and I...we have this suspicion that she and Arnold _may_ have been having an affair, and...maybe it has something to do with why she's missing."

"Hmm. What makes you think that?"

"It was just some things that Arnold said. We were _hoping_ to get a better scope of their dynamic from their other co-workers," He then sighed tiredly, "Which ended up being fruitless because, _nobody_ could agree if there was an affair or not. Half and half basically. Usually _somebody_ knows _something_ concrete."

"Wouldn't surprise me I guess," Brian shrugged and took a sip of his lager.

His friend's eyebrow curiously raised, wondering what he meant by that, "What wouldn't surprise you?"

"That he was sleeping around again."

"Again?" Sure. Sid and Jeremy had suspected there had been an affair going on between Arnold and Monica, but they considered is _isolated_. Yet, here was his friend and his suspects ex-roommate throwing some unknown history into the mix.

Brian snorted, "Really? Dude was a _total_ collector of women," He began musing, taking a sip of his beer. Across the table, Sid gave him a funny look, spurring his friend to continue on, "He had a _constant_ stream of girls in and out of our dorm. I thought I told you about all that?"

Sid vehemently shook his head, "Hell no. I definitely would have remembered that. You only ever bitched about his and Helga's noisy banging."

Brian rolled his eyes, and briefly looked off in annoyance, "Yeah, well that was ridiculous too."

"You know what," Sid took a huge swig of his beer, finishing it off and then flagging down the waitress for yet another, "Hey can I get another?" He quickly asked before turning back to his friend, "I apparently have no idea about this other side of Arnold that you're referring too, so...you were his roommate, why don't you tell me everything you know about him."

"Whatever dude, but I highly doubt his raunchy sex life is anything of value."

"If there is one thing I've learned about investigating, you just never know what you might find."

"Suit yourself. I discovered pretty immediately that he was a revolving door for girls. I've _never_ seen a guy get so much freakin' pussy in my _life_. He'd pick up girls at like...study groups and coffee shops, bring them home, bang them and give them the walk of shame pronto."

"See, I didn't know that. And that's absolutely _nuts_ to me that he would be like that––thank you," He quickly told the waitress as she sat his requested beer down in front of him, "I mean, let's pretend for a moment that he _isn't_ a suspected serial killer. Arnold Shortman _...womanizer._ "

"That's what I'm telling you," Brian gestured with an open palm, and shook his head, "It was wild. I never imagined him being the type that would use girls like that. For awhile I couldn't figure out if he was a sex addict or if he was just searching for something...I don't know, everybody has their flaws I guess. Maybe he was trying to fill some void in himself."

"Sounds like he was filling some voids alright…" Sid grimaced.

"So, this goes on for several years. Then he starts dating..." He motioned with a pair of sarcastic air quotes, "Taylor. I air quote because it was laughable considering all he did was sleep around behind her back."

"Alright so...pause for second..." Sid said, rubbing his temple in thought. "That makes sense now."

"Okay?" Brian tilted his beer up and took a swig.

"Sorry," Sid shook his head, "We had him and Helga in an interrogation room together just to see if, you know, anything of value got said between them and he admitted to sleeping with Taylor after Jay caught them. I always knew that she and him were messing around behind Jay's back, I just never realized it overlapped with Arnold dating Taylor as well. Of course I guess I've never had any reason to know that or...c _are_ until this point either."

"I hear you. But yeah, he was uh…banging chicks left and right while dating her, including Helga which…if I remember _correctly_...he ran into at one of Gerald's parties?" Brain trailed off in question. "Anyway, I'm sure he intended to hit and quit her but that didn't happen. Next thing I know, she's showing up at our apartment randomly and they're going at it as if...I don't know, he'd been away at war or something."

"And the rest is a crap show."

His friend snorted, "Yep. Jay barges in one night because I guess maybe he followed her or something."

"He found piece of a condom wrapper in his couch, and started connecting the dots. That's how."

Brian looked at him, kind of surprised, "No shit?"

"I know."

"Damn he _is_ a detective isn't he?" Brian chuckled and so did Sid. "Good thing he never figured out I knew about the whole thing."

"Yeah, that was kind of a D-bag thing to keep to yourself."

"Give me a break, I didn't know him all that well at the time and I had to live with Arnold so..."

Sid waved him off, "Dude, I'm busting your balls. Though I would expect you to tell me if you saw Rhonda doing that. Like she ever _would_ but—"

"—Obviously," Brain rolled his eyes with a snicker, "You're my bro."

"So, out of curiosity, did he keep his...revolving door of girls going after she and he became a thing?"

"No idea. But, I have to assume he didn't because he unabashedly brought girls home when he was dating Taylor, but I never saw one after Helga was in the picture. I guess maybe he found _whatever_ he was looking for in her," He took another big gulp from his beer and sat the glass back down. "Go figure. It's like universe destined them to be together no matter how far away they went from one another."

"Now you're sounding sappy."

Brian snorted and shrugged, "It was just weird man."

Sid rubbed his chin, "Did she know about...how he was?"

"I mean, _maybe_ she does now but at least while I was living with them, she was clueless of his past...wandering eyes," Brian then held out his index finger as he took a gulp of beer, signifying he intended to add detail, "And before you ask," He began as he sat his glass down, "I know this because he cornered me shortly after she moved in and begged me to never mention any of it to her."

"Wow..." Sid's eyebrow's rose up his forehead in surprise.

"Why do _you_ ask? Going to take that nugget, she if she knows, try to create a little riff between them?" Brian snickered lightly, "If so, I would enjoy seeing that reaction."

Sid chuckled and only shook his head, "I'm trying to work a case, and you're over here all drama thirsty."

"Well, when it comes to your case, we're just going to have to see where the cards fall, however, him turning our dorm into a sorority brothel left a bad taste in my mouth, and honestly, after getting to know Jay a bit, I'd say she downgraded with Arnold."

" _Hmm_ …well okay then."

Brian rolled his eyes, "Just offering my opinion of the situation I had to live through. I just don't think that somebody with a cheating mindset like that can ever really turn it off. And I always liked Helga. We were always cool throughout school and stuff. I mean…I think Rhonda downgraded with you too so…" He finished with a casual shrug and a smart-ass smile.

Sid was quick to shoot him an un-amused stare before taking a sip of his beer, and shrugging in a what-the-hey way, "Well, in _my_ case…you're probably right," He said with a small chuckle. "But here's hoping she never realizes that," He then said, holding up his beer and taking another gulp.

"For all of our sakes," Brian chortled, "So, how's Jay doing with all of this?"

Sid sighed, reached up and scratching his brow, not really sure where to begin or even how to properly answer that question. "I honestly don't know from day to day. Sometimes I think he's going to be good with everything and other times I'm _sure_ I'm going to have to request that he be removed."

"Man, I think you have to cut him a little slack. He's had an extremely bizarre situation fall in his lap and I think he's probably doing the best he can with it."

Sid shook his head, "Yeah, and I get that. He can just be hard to read sometimes is all. As good of friends as we are...boy howdy...I still really can't tell if it's spite or some lingering left over love that motivates some of his more questionable days."

"I think he'll be fine," Brian waved him off.

"Yeah. The guy is a first class detective and…I've been a little guilty of teasing him about some things, which…I know I need to stop doing so that he he can focus."

* * *

 **Next Day.**

The following day Sid walked in for the morning, not immediately seeing his partner anywhere around, but clearly there, judging by his jacket on the back of his chair. He shrugged off his own suit jacket and hung it on the back of his chair before walking to the break room to secure himself a fresh cup of coffee for the morning. He always had a small cup of some expensive arabica bean coffee that Rhonda bought at home, but call him crazy, he just couldn't go without the high octane, heart attack sludge that secretary Janice had awaiting for everybody every morning.

He poured him a heaping amount before dumping in some sugar and a little cream, seeing one of his fellow officers walk in. As he threw away his stir stick he turned, "Morning Bill."

"Hey Sid," The much older man grumbled, clearly not entirely awake yet.

"Have you seen Jeremy around?"

"Uh…I saw him in the video room when I walked by."

Sid took a cautionary sip of his high octane fuel for the day— _perfect_ —thanked Bill, poured a second cup for Jeremy and strided off down the hallway to find his professional other half. When he peeked into the open doorway, he saw him fast forwarding a recording, which he immediately recognized as the tapes for Arnold's initial holding.

He lazily knocked his foot on the door well, it making a muted thud of and announcement, "What's up?"

Jeremy didn't turn around, recognizing the voice just fine, and choosing to keep his eyes on whatever he was looking for on the TV screen, "Hey," He did reply though. He hit the play button for a mini-second before fast forwarding a little bit more.

"What you looking for?" Sid curiously asked as he walked up and sat down beside his partner, placing his coffee cup in front of him. Jeremy didn't say anything immediately, but reached for his mug and took a quick sip.

"I've been replaying everything that Arnold said in my head over and over for the past few days and I realized that...something didn't sit right with me…and I couldn't figure out what until it hit me early this morning…" He hit play again, and again kept fast forwarding.

"What hit you?"

Jeremy pressed play for the third time since Sid had entered the room and let it play for a second before quickly pointing to the screen, "This!" He rewound the tape a few seconds and hit play again.

" _She's still missing, and…she was my work buddy, or—_ _"_ He hit the fast forward button once more a few seconds and stopped. " _Never even saw her outside of the hospital. She was just...the person I hung around most there and would talk to about...everything, TV shows, all of our remodeling ideas and...who I vented to about our—"  
_

Jeremy hurriedly pressed the pause button before tilting his head at his partner, curious to see if he'd caught what had been so thoroughly bothering him since about 3:30 that morning. Sid quirked a brow, before returning his gaze, "He's referring to her in past tense."

" _Yes,_ " Jeremy remarked as he pointed at Sid and looked back the screen. "I mean, at that point as far as he was concerned, the both of them were and...I guess still _are_ employees of Hillwood Medical. He _works_ with her, not _worked_ with her."

Sid scratched his chin a little in thought, "He either thinks she's deceased or...he _knows_ she is."

"It was just an odd thing to say and...that's what bothered me out of the whole conversation they had."

"I agree that it's eyebrow raising, and worth seeing if it happens again if we ever get a chance to talk to him, you know...since he's lawyer'ed up and all," Sid then sighed, "But...we need to keep this to ourselves though. People will flip their tenses and it not mean anything."

Jeremy ran a hand over his hair and scratched the back of his head, "Yeah, I know."

* * *

 **Three weeks later.**

"You got something for us?" Sid rapped his knuckles on the edge of the door, peaking into one of their labs with Jeremy right behind him. The girl in the white coat, Nina, looked up from the computer she logging a report into to see the two detectives looking hungry for an evidence crumb.

"Yup," She scooted backwards in her rolling chair to the counter behind her, snatching up a small stack of manila folders as the pair entered her work space. "I've got the results for all of the hair and finger print and DNA dustings for your Murder house case."

"Jesus Christ, your nickname has spread like wildfire..." Jeremy remarked, giving Sid an amused look as he shook his head. Sid spared him an eye roll before continuing to eagerly await some news they'd been drooling over.

"It's a good one," Nina admitted before she handed off one folder to Sid's awaiting hands, "No finger prints belonging to anybody besides Mr. Shortman or Ms. Pataki were found in their residence. Jewelry found in the box was mostly devoid of any physical evidence, however, there was one ring that contained faint amounts of DNA from Sarah Copeland."

"Seriously?" Jeremy said, snatching the folder out Sid's hands and cracking it open to see for himself. Nina was waiting to refill Sid's empty palms with a second folder though.

"No fingerprints other than Mr. Shortman's and Ms. Pataki's recovered from his, or her two vehicles, _however,_ we recovered several strands of of hair that belonged to Monica Davenport out of his."

"Boy howdy..." Sid said in a monotone voice of shock, staring down at the folder in his hands, and feeling like his eyes were glossing over with overwhelmedness.

Nina didn't have time for him to come to terms with his case before she slapped the third folder down on top of the one that he was staring comatose at, "And we recovered quite a bit of hair belonging to Mr. Shortman out of Monica Davenport's apartment, a lot of it out of the drain catch in her shower, as well as other places such as the couch and out of the main bedroom."

"Okay...yeah...wow," Sid cleared his throat as he shook his head, finally looking up to stare at Nina, "We've got a lot to work with here," He wasn't really sure what else to say at that point, he was still in so much shock. "Thanks Nina."

"It's my job," She replied, in remarkably and scooted back to her computer, "Good luck with your case."

Next thing Sid realized, he was being tugged by the elbow out of Nina's lab by Jeremy, who was saying something but he didn't have the focus to really comprehend a bit of it. He was entirely too shaken to focus on anything around him. Up until that point. Everything about Arnold being involved with Monica's disappearance and the girls found of his property had been purely circumstantial and purely theory based.

But now. The concrete of evidence was beginning to...firm. It still didn't seem possible to him. He was a logical guy and he would go in whatever way the evidence pointed him to, but it still was just...too surreal for him in that moment.

"You hear me?"

"What?" Sid finally said as they walked, taking a deep breath.

"You okay?" Jeremy quirked his chipped brow at him.

Sid nodded, "Yeah, I'm just processing is all."

"Anyway, I said we need to go talk to Clair. See if this is solid enough for her to build on."

"Yeah...yeah right," His partner distractedly nodded, "We still don't have a body with Monica but _—_ _"_

 _"_ _ _—__ We have Sarah Copland's DNA, a girl who's body was found in _his_ woods, on a ring that was in _his_ garage. It's getting pretty clear at this point."

Sid nodded, "Yeah I know. It's pretty damning. You're right. I am just having to process this right now is all."

Jeremy stopped and peered at his friend, "There's a part of you that still doesn't believe isn't there?" Strangely enough, Sid noted that there wasn't any disbelief or mockery in his voice when he asked, nor was there any written on his face, which guided him into a withered sigh and a hand through his hair.

"I mean...I don't know what you want me to say. It is what it is I guess."

* * *

"Push him for a confession," Claire said, pulling off her reading glasses after looking through all three of the folders that Jeremy and Sid and presented her. She closed the folders and stood from her desk to hand them back.

"You think it's enough at this point?"

"No. I don't." She admitted, "However, I think we all know the direction that this investigation is taking. The sooner we get some closure for the families of these girls, the better. And that will happen much quicker if we can tighten the noose on him. I'm willing to take the death penalty off of the table if he pleads guilty."

* * *

 **Four Days Later.**

Arnold and John sat together in an interrogation room a midst a very tense silence. Neither really sure what to expect out of the insistence of another interview. An interview that John had Advised his client not to say a word at. And on top of that they had been waiting entirely too long. No sooner than he'd had the thought of calling it off because they couldn't have the decency to be fucking punctual, Sid and Jeremy came slipping into the room.

To Arnold's great disbelief. He was astonished that his wife's ex hadn't been thrown off the case for a conflict of interest. So, with a sigh, he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, "Either he goes or I'm not talking to you," He nodded towards Jeremy. He wasn't trying to be a dick, but he didn't trust the guy further than he could spit.

"You heard him. Detective Kirk either leaves, or we're ending this now," John backed him up.

Sid looked over at Jeremy and shrugged. "I'll handle it." His partner rolled his eyes and left room.

"Thanks," Arnold said in a quiet voice.

His old classmate was a little taken-a-back by it as he sat down, considering all they knew now, and Arnold watched as he laid out three different folds in front of them. "We need to talk."

"Okay."

Sid flipped open all of the folders, "We found DNA from Sarah Copeland in your house."

"Who?"

"You don't have to answer," John said to his client, but Arnold shook his head, never looking away from Sid.

"One of the girls found in your woods."

Arnold looked confused, brow bunching up underneath his dirty blonde eyebrows and his mouth pulling down in a scowl, "That's not possible."

"You're smart Arnold, you know DNA doesn't lie," Sid replied.

" _You're_ lying then."

"I'm not here to lie to you. I'm here to offer you a deal."

John, having finally heard enough, cleared his throat, "There will be no deal with anything. My client hasn't done anything wrong."

Sid took a withered breath. Goddamn these last few days had been rough for him, "Your client had DNA, in his house, from a girl found buried on his property. Additionally, hair from Monica Davenport was collected inside of your client's vehicle as well as his hair being collected inside of her apartment..."

The entire time, Arnold was steadfastly shaking his head 'no', "That is not _possible._ "

Sid glanced at Arnold before returning his gaze to John, "Your client said that he'd never been in the presence of Ms. Davenport outside of the hospital, which is now being shown to be a _lie._ "

"'Cause I haven't!" Arnold raised his voice and motioned his hand out with an open palm.

"Arnold..." John warned, before turning back the detective, "I want copies of all your reports. And we're done here."

* * *

 **Two Days Later.**

"You alright? They feeding you enough in there?" Helga asked into the phone, laying back on her bed after an extremely long day at work. Her only bright spot was that she knew that she'd get to talk to him that night. 8:00 right on the dot too, her phone rang for her twenty minutes of peace.

 _"It's not very good. Definitely not like what we cook."_

"I know...it's not forever though."

 _"Yeah..."_ She heard him trail off a little, _"So...anything special you want to talk about?"_

"Floors..." She said before she could even stop herself.

But he chuckled a little and asked, _"You want to talk about floors?"_

Helga sighed, rubbing her fingers into her closed eyes, "I just want to feel normal for a moment," She tiredly admitted. Truthfully, she didn't really want to talk about floors, she just wanted to pretend he was on a business trip and they were just talking as if everything wasn't a pile of shit and he'd be home for the weekend.

 _"Well, let's talk about floors then. They are pretty cool, you can walk on them and sometimes roll aroun_ _—_ _"_

Helga chortled, dropping her hand and actually allowing herself to crack a much needed smile, "Ha... _ha._ I'm talking about for our house."

 _"I know. I'm thinking the Coppertone color that we looked at."  
_

"Really?"

 _"Yeah, I think it will match the age of the house. It's got that...farm house quality to it."_

"See I was thinking more along the lines of the tawny."

 _"That was my second favorite."_

"They're pretty similar I think."

 _"Yeah...I think the Coppertone is a little more knotty though."_

Helga snorted, "Did you just say knotty or naughty?"

On the other end, Arnold laughed himself, _"Definitely both when comparing it to the tawny. It's the sexier sister."_

"Uh huh..."

 _"We can flip a coin or you can get the tawny, I'll be fine with either but...I think the Coppertone is going to look really good with the color of our walls and...it's going to look really great with the nursery theme we have picked out."_

Helga exhaled, looking around at the color of their room as she subconsciously rubbed her stomach, "Yeah, that is true. Speaking of the nursery, I've got to get started on that sooner than later."

 _"Hopefully I can help."_

"You will," She insisted, trying to remain positive.

 _"Have you felt her move yet?"_

"Nope. Not yet."

 _"That pretty normal?"_

"It seems so."

 _"Hey so...what do you think of Jeremy?"_

Helga frowned, not really sure where that had come from, "What kind of question is that?"

 _"You think he's trustworthy?"_

"I mean, yeah...unless he's had a serious departure from ethics since I last knew him. Why?"

 _"I don't know...I don't really trust him. Especially when dealing with my livelihood."_

"Well, I'm sure John could probably file a something or other and have him removed for conflict of interest."

 _"Yeah, I might have him do that."_

"I don't think he would fabricate evidence against you or anything if that's what you're worried about."

 _"You don't think? I think the guy still has a lot of anger in him."_

"Well...okay, so this isn't me trying to tell you what to do but...he'd be risking a lot just to fuck with you...and me."

 _"Yeah true..."_

* * *

 **Three weeks later.**

Jeremy and Sid and just pulled onto the interstate, headed north up into the mountains to have a peek around Bob and Miriam Pataki's cabin and to meet up with the forensic crew that was already on the way to conduct the search. Who knows what they'd find there, but Sid was hoping to find what that key went to. Based on the last conversation he'd had with Arnold and his lawyer, he wasn't going to volunteer information over to him, so the hunt continued.

Sid had barely merged off of the ramp when his phone began buzzing. He hurriedly answered, "Moretti... _what?_ Nah, we're on the way to conduct a search warrant right now...you can't get some one else? Alright...alright...we're on our way," Sid hung up and huffed, tossing the phone back the inner console.

"What now?" Jeremy un-enthusiastcally asked.

"We're getting pulled off of this to go secure a body found in storage unit."

"Oh brother...they couldn't send someone else?"

"Apparently not." Sid pulled off at the very next exit, getting back on the intersection and heading back from which he came. In the mean time, Jeremy phone their crew, alerting them that their presence would not be non-existent on their cabin search. It took the two men no time at all to get over 5th street and into a storage unit complex owned by a national chain. It wasn't hard to figure out where they needed to go either, they literally just followed the cop cars sitting around, some with lights on, some without. They had at least put up the caution tape.

Sid parked and they both exited his cruiser, marching towards the open unit with everybody standing around...immediately being hit full force with the most wretched smell of death imaginable. "Jesus Christ..." Jeremy shook his head, eyes getting wide, "Should have brought some vicks rub..." He swallowed hard. By that point, they had walked up on the first officer outside of the unit, "What in God's name is going on in there?" He asked, the two men taking a glance and immediately seeing nothing but a stack of boxes lining the back, a deep freezer and a few car batteries.

"Got a call from security at this place about the smell come from here. You're going to want to take a look at this." Both men held their breaths as the walked into the small unit behind the officer, "Uh...deep freezer, being kept on by the hot wiring to these few batteries. Either they ran out of juice or, the wiring failed and...well, we've got what we have here."

Sid reached into his pocket and retrieved his gloves, wiggling them on, before apprehensively grabbing a hold of the indented handle of the deep freezer, giving Jeremy a brief look before opening it. "Oh good God..." Both of their eyes went wide and Sid wasn't willing to leave that door up any longer than neccisary for them to figure out what they were dealing with. And it wasn't pretty. "We need to get forensics and the coroner down here. ASAP."

All three men walked back out of the unit as quickly as possible, happy to catch the fresh air awaiting outside. Jeremy then turned back to the officer, as Sid was pulling out of his phone to make the call, "Is the owner or...the manager of somebody around here?"

"That's me," A tall dark skinned man standing off from the unit said. Jeremy and Sid turned to see him and he walked over with unsure steps.

"How you doing? I'm Detective Kirk, this is Detective Moretti," He thumbed at his partner.

"My name is Leon," He guy introduced himself, "I'm the manager here."

"Do you know whose unit this is?"

"Um yeah...I uh...I looked up the number when Paul...the security guard informed me of the odor. I wanted to call the renter of the unit but he insisted that we call the police first." As the man finished, Sid paused his phone call, wanting to hear what the guy had to say.

"You did the right thing."

Leon looked back inside the unit, grimacing a little as he recaptured the awaiting gazes of the pair of detective in front of him, "Uh, right...the renter of that unit is a Helga G. Pataki. I have all of her other information in my office up front if you want to follow me?"

Sid stared at the guy for a moment more before turning and looking back at the freezer inside the unit. "Oh boy howdy..."

* * *

 **A/N:** So Brian had some interesting back story on Arnold. It seems like almost everybody has a different story about Arnold, including himself. So, who is he? And what the heck is going on?! Stay tuned. Also, if you got theories, talk to me. I love hearing what everybody thinks is going on.


	8. I never thought this could happen

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** I got this one put together kind of quickly. Even for me. I love it when chapter just come together nicely. Anyway: onward we go!

* * *

 **I never thought this could happen,  
**

 **I never thought I could feel this way.  
**

"Detective Moretti, how are you?" Sid reached out and shook the hand of the security guard employee at the storage compound. A burly man who looked to be a little past middle aged with a beard that would make most men jealous, and seeming calmer than a the eye of a hurricane too. Notable to Sid, because everybody else working at that place going about with an observable rattledness to them.

"Rob Thompson," The guy replied, "Could be better, if we're being honest," He then withdrew his hand and proceeded to perch both of them on his utility belt at his hips.

Sid subtly smiled, nodding his head in full agreement. Things could be better. Things could always be better, but he had that awful feeling bubbling in the pit of his gut, that things were about to get _much_ worse. As if they hadn't already. "So, tell me what all happened this morning." He requested with a deep inhale as he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a small notepad and pen that he carried with him.

"Well, I only make a round or two or the golf cart per shift at night. Other than that, everything is mostly monitored by security cameras," Rob began explaining, "I'd been catching a vague death smell over on this half of the property for a little while now, but it was so…faint that…"

"It's kind of non-directional when it's like that…" Sid filled in. He got it.

"Yeah, exactly. Anyway," He guard shrugged, "I figured it was probably a dead possum somewhere. But…we've had that warm snap the last few days and…I caught it heavy this morning. Strong enough for me to pinpoint it to that unit and…" Rob's eyes wandered off at the freezer before shaking his head, "That didn't smell like any dead animal I've ever smelt."

Sid glanced up from his notepad, "You a hunter?" He asked. The guy was referencing something that generally, and if one were lucky, only law enforcement ever had the non-privilege of knowing about. Decomposing human smelt differently than the rest of the animal kingdom.

Rob nodded, "Avid woodsman in general, and I told them up front," He pointed towards the main office, "Because they wanted to call the renter and a pest control company, that, what was coming out of there, was _no_ animal."

"Well, Mr. Thompson, you were right about that," Sid confirmed, "Unfortunately so. One more question, you mentioned security camera's. Are they posted at the ends of the rows around there or…?"

Rob shook his head and turned and pointed to the very back of the complex, "No, just for privacy we only keep them posted at the very back and one at the front entrance. And I don't know that we've actually ever had anybody break in," He turned back around, "Between you and me I think they're pretty pointless and solely so they can market this place as being _security_ monitored."

Sid let out a sigh of disappointment, though he supposed it _would_ be too convenient for cameras to actually capture important things. "What's the point of them when nobody wants to use them, right?" He replied in a slightly joking tone.

"I'm saying," Rob agreed with a nod.

"You ever see anything strange going on around here? Besides this?"

"Not really…but I've only been here for a little over a month."

At that, Sid's eyebrow and interest peeked, "So, was there somebody that you replaced?"

"Yeah," Rob reached up and scratched his forehead, "There was another fella that was here for awhile I think, and ended up moving out of state to be closer to family or something. Leon would know."

* * *

While Sid had agreed to go get the scoop from the security guard, Jeremy had slipped off a few feet to make a call to the coroner, and the most available forensics crew that could be there the quickest. Oh yes, and a flat bed truck…cause they were going to need it for that God forsaken deep freezer of putrid hell.

Speaking of which, while he was at it, he was going to go get that vick's rub out of the car while he had the opportunity. And it was at that point, while dabbing on a little bit of eucalyptus scented salve at the base of his nostrils that his phone began ringing. He screwed the lid back on the plastic jar and pocketed it, figuring others might would like some relief as well, before digging his cell out of the other. "This is Kirk," He answered, taking a deep breath through his nose and then furrowing his brows, "Really now?" He started walking back towards his partner, "Alright, well, process it, and don't let anybody be getting in an out of it like a num-skull. I don't want anything contaminated. Thanks," He hung up.

As he approached Sid, he held the jar out in offering, and it was gratefully accepted, "I just got a call that they found Monica's abandoned car," He eagerly informed him.

His partner paused his removal of the vick's lid, eyes widening greatly, "Where was it?"

"The hospital security finally ran the plates of a car that had been parked in the visitors section for awhile and alerted us."

Sid closed the jar and crossed his arms, taking in a deep breath before looking back into the unit, "That's got to be her then."

Jeremy eyes joined, "I can't fathom why it wouldn't be."

"Why leave her car at the very place she works though? That he works at too?"

"Familiar place," Jeremy eyes cut back to his partner, "I'd imagine."

Sid looked back at him, "Or maybe he just never got around to properly dumping it…or dumping her."

"Hopefully he didn't get around to cleaning her car out either…if he was using it for something," As Jeremy was replying, he caught something large and white out of his peripheral while he was glancing off and down the row of storage units. Turning he caught sight of a local news van rolling to the curb. He huffed, "What the _fuck_ are they doing here?"

Sid looked too, immediately rolling his eyes, "Dammit…"

"Hey!" Jeremy turned back to the police officers standing around, shooting the shit while they waited, "Which one of you idiots has been chatting over your radio about this shit!?" He bellowed as he walked towards them.

* * *

Sid and Jeremy stood by as they watched the deep freezer get loaded onto the flatbed that had been requested. The female body had been extracted and carted off for autopsy with the coroner, and the outside of freezer had been thoroughly dusted down for fingerprints, none of which turned up, disappointingly. Now it was off to the lab.

The dark headed detective popped a fresh toothpick in his mouth and walked back inside of the unit once the truck began to pull away, turning on the flash light from his phone to take a look at the boxes lining the very back wall. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a single black glove and slipped it on before removing the lid to one of the boxes.

"What you got in there?" Sid asked, walking to the edge or unit, looking up the side and around, choosing to crouch down and really take a look at the car batteries left behind.

Jeremy pulled out a few papers and held them up, shining his light on them as he squinted to read the fine text, "Looks like…invoices…for HGP Inspections," He sighed and shoved them back into the box they came from. "Helga's stuff."

"This is pretty clever, you know," Sid trailed off. Jeremy glanced back to see him holding up the newly cut wire that had connected the power cord into the batteries. "Putting together something like this."

"Clever in all the wrong ways."

"Hey, so uh…you want to be the one to…call Helga and…tell her about this or do you want me to do it?"

"I'd rather not drop this on her in a phone call, if you want me to be honest."

"The vultures have been here. Either she'll see it tonight on local news, or somebody she knows will. Either way, she's going to find out."

"How about you pay her a visit tonight. I would but she isn't going to want to talk to me. Trust me."

"Yep," Sid agreed as he dropped the wire back onto the floor. Before he stood, his eyes wandered towards the doorway where he saw the glinting of a steel block in the sun rays. He immediately recognized it as a padlock. Rising to his feet, he quickly walked over and scooped it from the ground.

"What you got?"

His partner turned the padlock around to look at it from all sides, noting that bolt cutters had been used to remove from the latch the secured the vertical sliding door. "The lock for the door," Sid pushed up and resumed standing, while reaching into his pocket for the small key belonging to Arnold that he'd been carrying around, looking for an answer to. Glancing at Jeremy for a moment, he stuck it into the pad, easily twisting it and watching as one side of the snapped rod fell to the floor below with a muted ting.

"Well…I guess that answers the question…"

* * *

"So this is it huh?" Sid asked, crossing his arms as he watched a single tech leaning over into the trunk of a white sedan in the impound warehouse, "Did it look like it had been cleaned up or anything?"

The tech straightened, breaking off his swabbing Q-tip into the the plastic vile he had in his opposite hand before snapping it closed, "No, it appears as if it were just…left for work."

The detective nodded, "That's good."

"I've found some hair, gotten a good sample of a discoloration right back here," He pointed into the left side of the trunk, "Fingerprints, all that," He went to walk back towards his cart to drop the vile into a manila envelop, "Oh, I also found a small little grey towel wadded up shoved on the side of the passenger's seat between the center console."

"Yeah?"

"We're going to send that off for some testing as well. There is some sort of substance in it."

Jeremy strolled up beside him, looking into the car and then between his partner and the tech, "Finding anything good."

"Finding all sorts of things. Don't know if they're good yet or not," The tech chuckled.

Jeremy shrugged and walked around the car until the came to the drivers side. Looking in at the steering wheel and seat his eyebrow raised slightly, "Hey did anybody move anything?" He asked.

Both the tech and Sid looked over the hood at him, "No, and they took pictures of the interior before we transported it anyway if you want confirmation."

"Why?" Sid asked, himself strolling around he end of the car to re-join his partner.

Jeremy pointed at the driver's seat, "How tall is Monica? Like…five two or something?"

"Yep," Sid nodded, "And I'm seeing what you are too," He affirmed.

"Look how far back that seat is. There is no _way_ she was the last one in this car," Jeremy said looking back at his partner, "But I know one tall fucker that probably was," He said, eluding to Arnold's 6'2" stature.

* * *

 **That Night.**

Helga was perched on the edge of her living room couch, hunched as best as she could—considering things were starting to get shorter on space in her midsection—over her coffee table busily typing her field notes into a full report to submit to the county about how she would _not_ be signing off the foundation packing and leveling,—amongst other things—for a new gym under construction in the city.

It was a wonder that her eyes hadn't rolled out of her head by that point from all the shit she'd seen contractors try to pass off as 'quality' work. Whatever though. She enjoyed the hunt. And angry, belligerent men insisting that there was nothing wrong didn't phase her.

 _One bit._

In the midst of all her typing, and as she was reaching for the glass of water beside her laptop, she felt the tiniest little fluttering punch from within. Prominent and long enough for her to quickly realize what was _finally_ happening as said hand instinctively flew to her midsection. "Well hi there," She mumbled in amazement as the edge of her mouth upturned into a warm smirk. "Think you could do that again?" She jokingly asked, but nothing more was to be had no matter how still she sat. "Not feeling it, huh?" She wished it had lasted a bit longer, but she couldn't even bring herself to be disappointed. There would be more to come. "Your daddy is going to be excited."

With her smile still in place, she took a deep breath, found her spot on her report and started typing again. She was more than ready at that point to finish everything up for the night. It wasn't even close to late, but she was well aware that she needed to do a much better job of relaxing at night and cut work off at a certain hour. It really _was_ running her ragged, but in a weird way also keeping her sane at the same time. But if she were being completely honest, she knew she could more than use a few extra hours of sleep at night. Which meant if she could manage to crawl into bed at a halfway respectable hour that night, she might _actually_ get a full eight.

Her cell phone began vibrating, causing her to quickly glance over and see 'Parents' written on the caller ID. She had no idea what either of them could possibly be wanting but…she'd have to call them back. She was busy. With the ignore button pressed, she resumed her work, knowing they wouldn't take it personally because she always returned calls when she was free.

Yet, no sooner had she started typing, her house phone began ringing, again it being her parents. Now they had her attention. Now her eyebrows were effectively raised, and rather high. It wasn't like them to be _that_ persistent, nor did they _ever_ call the house phone. They weren't bothersome people. Unless something was wrong. She quickly grabbed the device off the side table and brought it to her ear, "Hey. What's going on?" She just went ahead and asked, _assuming_ there was some sort of emergency taking place.

" _Helga, are you near a TV?"_ Her mother's voice asked, sounding extremely shaky and very out of character for her.

Helga frowned, starting to feel a little panic stricken as the hairs on the back of her next perked, "What? Yeah, why?" She looked up at her main TV, which she currently had on the HGTV network for some background noise while she worked. Without any ushering she already felt compelled to reach for the remote.

" _Turn it to channel 10."_

She felt a pang of adrenaline shoot through her and the worst feeling of dread ever rip through her core, before it pooled in the bottom of her chest as she flipped the channel, "Mom, what is going o—" She stopped mid-sentence when she saw a reporter standing in front of the storage business that she rented a unit from, and then a couple bits of footage of a cautioned off unit that she recognized before the quick shot of the unit number.

 _Her_ unit number.

" _Authorities say the identity of the young woman found in a Hillwood storage unit is still unknown, but that it is connected with the disappearance of Monica Davenport, and the eleven other women discovered on the Redwood Road property."_

There was a body in her storage unit.

A body.

In her unit.

 _What?_

The blood flooded to her feet, leaving her lightheaded to the point of mild vertigo.

She couldn't even formulate a reply.

Couldn't.

She wasn't even sure what she had just _heard._ That was a lie. She was _absolutely_ sure what she'd just heard, and seen but it couldn't be right. It had to be a mistake. Arnold wasn't a killer.

 _Her_ Arnold _wasn't_ a killer.

He was a decent, kind human being that had his mortal flaws as everybody did.

But not _that_ kind.

Anything _but_ that kind.

The journalist just kept yapping, and she had completely forgotten her mother on the other end of her phone that was still clutched within her palm as her arm fell to her lap.

There was a dead woman.

In her storage unit.

How could she have gotten there?

How _else_ could she have gotten there?

There was only _one_ way she could have gotten there.

"No…" She said in the most meek voice that had ever exited her throat. In her swirling cocktail of emotions she couldn't quite reconcile whether it were out of denial, heartbrokenness or some blend of both.

She opted for denial because none of what she was hearing…or had heard could possibly, in any capacity in the most _profound_ imagination, be _true._

She knew him.

She did.

She knew him as a child, and she knew him now. He was a good man.

But it was the _exact_ same conversation she had reassured herself with in the upmost certainty when she'd been detained in the holding room. How could she be needing it _again?_

They were wrong.

Everything was _wrong._

Arnold was a _good_ man.

But it didn't matter _what_ she thought though. All the desperate denial, all the hollow doubt, all the the future plans, the going-to-be's and the meant-to-be's. It all shattered at her feet the moment she heard her doorbell ring.

She looked over her shoulder, through a blur, and down the foyer that led to the front door, realizing just how glassy her eyes had suddenly become. She knew who it was. Every bone, every hair, every sense, every fiber in her collective existence knew who was at that God forsaken front door of hers.

She wanted to ignore it. She did. Just like everything else. But there was no ignoring it. No ignoring them.

It just _couldn't_ be right.

The doorbell briskly rang again, sounding more like the haunting chime of a grand clock, ushering in dark times like the plague. She pulled herself from the couch, finding it harder to fight the tears piling up behind her eyes, and the emotion constricting her throat to the point of pain the closer she inched towards the front door.

It all felt so surreal to her. That foyer might as well have been ten miles, because the walk felt that excruciatingly long. With a trembling hand, she reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

Sid was standing on the other side, his hands shoved stiffly into his pants pockets and a posture expressive of the fact that he wasn't enjoying having to be there. Down in the driveway, she saw Jeremy reclusively leaning against the car, turning away when he caught her eyes.

Her gaze cut back to the detective standing on her porch, eyes probably looking terribly bloodshot already. This wasn't how she wanted to be seen. "Sid," She sniffed in a petite voice that she absolutely loathed.

This was _not_ how she wanted to be seen.

This was _not_ how she wanted to have this conversation.

Jesus. She was having to have _that_ conversation.

Nothing on earth was _right_ anymore.

"Hey Helga," He replied as equally quiet, realizing immediately that an explanation wasn't necessary on his part. Her appearance wordlessly told him that she already knew why he was there. And so he left it at that. "If you want to talk to me about it tomorrow, that's fine. Do you need anything right now?"

Helga slowly blinked, two rogue tears quickly sneaking out of each end corner of her eyes. She heard him, but her mind was ablaze with a thousand other thoughts and questions that were splitting her apart. But of everything, she found herself asking, "Was it her?" In practically a whisper.

Almost as if a yes or no would somehow tell her everything she needed to know.

Sid was a little caught off guard by the question, even considering that he'd come there to break the truth to her. But things had changed in the last few minutes. He peered at her through a pair of agonized grey eyes, "I don't know right now," He answered in his own fragile whisper.

The distraught blonde nodded, looking away as she placed her palm against the door frame for support. "I'll uh…" She swallowed painfully, "I'll…talk to you tomorrow."

"Are you sure you're fine?" He tried again, more than a little concerned about just _leaving_ her that way. He hated having to use the word 'fine.' Nothing was _fine_. She wasn't fine. She probably wouldn't _be_ fine for a long while. But it was the only thing he could say. So, whatever she needed, he'd get or do. It didn't matter what. Because in his mind, if Rhonda were ever left in a predicament where a detective was turning up a their house—probably because he were dead—dropping devastating, life altering news like that, he'd want somebody to go beyond just a courtesy visit and have some compassion.

Yet, with offer in hand she still declined his gesture with the shake her head, "I'll call you," She repeated as she turned to walk back into the house.

"Okay," Sid nodded, making no motion to move until she had closed the door behind her.

Once she had flipped the deadbolt, she leaned backwards against the door before sliding down to the floor. Dropping her head back against the oak wood, she finally stopped fighting her emotion. And she wept. She wept until she felt too tired and empty to do so anymore.

* * *

Sid glumly walked into his condo that night, mind so filled with sadness and dread that he barely noticed that his wife wasn't in the living room waiting for him as she typically was on his later evenings. Nights that seemed to be overly common these days.

His arrival wasn't unnoticed though. As he was heading towards their bedroom, she emerged from the kitchen, hands dusted in flour. "Hey."

"Hey, hun," He tiredly replied, "What are you doing?"

Rhonda wiped her hands on her leggings with a slight smirk, "Making a pie," She replied, "Attempting to."

Sid nodded. He figured she'd gotten a spark of inspiration from the baking class they were taking. More like _she_ were taking. Seeing as he'd missed the last four classes.

"You hungry? Maddie made a balsamic pork loin," Rhonda offered. He was a little surprised and taken back by her complete casualness. She knew what was going on, he'd texted her about it after they had made their discovery at the storage unit, as he did a lot of the time, telling her some scoop. Probably not the most professional of him but, he knew she wouldn't ever utter a word about what he had going on at work.

And knowing all that, she was making a pie? At that hour? He wasn't in the mood for that crap.

"Maybe later. I'm going to go take a shower," He declined, continuing to walk towards their bedroom. Once he'd walked into the room, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and folded it over a desk chair that he trudged by, proceeding to loosen his tie as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Propping his elbows onto the edge of his knees, he clasped his hands together and sat in silence, decompressing everything.

He didn't really know how long he sat like that, his mind in a clouded whirl, but he was pulled out of all his thoughts by the sense that Rhonda had quietly slipped into the room.

Sid looked over his shoulder, seeing her standing in the open doorway, "You feeling alright?" She asked.

"No," He shook his head, and Rhonda crossed the room and came to sit beside him.

"I'm sorry if I seemed…out of touch just now," She began, "I know you've had a tough day and I…didn't know what time you would be home and I was just trying to…keep my mind busy."

Sid nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on her leg and giving it a gentle squeeze, "I know," He assured, feeling bad about being mildly aggravated with her.

"Want to talk about it?"

Her husband sighed, "I had to go talk to Helga tonight."

"Oh."

"I might as well have just told her he was dead," He admitted, feeling his eyes get embarrassingly watery. He'd always been a bit of a crier as a child, and still was a little overly in touch with his emotions in spite of his tough guy persona. He wasn't even sure _why_ he was still self-conscious about it either. Rhonda knew him. "I wanted, so badly, for it _not_ to be true about him."

"We all did," His wife agreed.

"Somebody like him…being a complete fraud. An evil fraud," Sid went on, reaching up and wiping his eyes, "How are you suppose to feel like you really know anybody after this?"

Rhonda exhaled, reaching out and running her hand over his back, and shoulders, "You can't ever know…truly. You just have to continue to have faith in people no matter what."

Sid nodded, reaching up with his opposite hand and placing it over the one she'd left on his shoulder as he leaned in and rested his head on hers.

* * *

Helga had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion sometime in the early morning hours, well after having vehemently assured her parents, Phoebe and about three other people who knew her personally that she absolutely did _not_ want to talk. Had she never been more thankful in her entire life that she had such a small group of associates.

Yet, as much as sleep should have been a relief for her, it seemed that no sooner than her head had hit the pillow, she was being thrust awake by her morning alarm.

She knew she probably shouldn't have, but she went about her normal work morning like a complete zombie tittering on the edge of a breakdown that was absolute _torture_ to push down. To the point of exhaustion, but a test to sheer determination. Luckily, nobody around her professionally, had any idea what was going on in her life. Not even her two employees. She worked out of her SUV and had a business P.O. box that she'd never been more thankful for the decision to get versus advertising her home address all across her invoices.

Yet, she was still amazed at herself. Her ability to work in the face of emotional devastation. Her life was in ruins, yet she had stood on a job site, that very morning, and carried on with a couple guys as if it were any other day. She supposed she got it from Bob. She didn't necessarily believe it were a good trait, just…highly useful.

Especially since she was on her on from that point forward.

However, by afternoon, even she couldn't take anymore and promptly either rescheduled any appointments she had or informed the client's that didn't _have_ to see _her_ that one of her employee's would be going to take a look instead.

At home she found herself standing at her sliding glass door, staring at the barren pit that remained her patio, trying to figure out what her next moves needed to be. There had been two girls in that hole not long ago. Her eyes fluttered upwards and onto the woods. There had been girls back there. Somehow, there had been a girl in her storage unit.

He'd put them there. Each one, each place. A man that she thought were decent. A man that she still loved dearly.

How had she _missed_ it though? It had been right in _front_ of her. Right _beneath_ her. How had she been so _blinded?_ How could she have bed down with a monster and never noticed.

 _How?_

She'd racked her brain to the point of mental fatigue trying to figure it out, only to continue to circle back around on the culprit. Because she was in love with him. And now, because of that, she was feeling like she had gotten blasted out of the sky by a giant piece of shrapnel in a fire fight. Shrapnel that might be her scar to bear forever. She sniffed as more than a few tears spilled over her eyelids. Her gut was churning, and she was so tired of feeling sick that it sparked a fleeting pang of outrage in her veins.

Maybe she just wasn't as good at reading people as she assumed. A thought that made her shudder. And a reason she wouldn't be making any contact with Sid that day, despite her telling him she would. She knew she wasn't ready to know the full details. If that made her cowardly, then so be it.

She didn't care.

* * *

 **That Night.**

Hearing the whine of her dogs at the back door, Helga walked from her kitchen, carrying a bowl of cereal in her hands that was her dinner, to let the hooligans out one last time for the night. "Have at it," She said as she slid the door open, watching them happily pour out into the dirt, running around the hole and straight towards the woods.

It still gave her the heebie jeebies that they liked going back there so much. Wildlife aside, she had to assume it was the lingering smell of death that continued to attract them. Like she could fault them though. They were animals after all. As she was spooning another scoop of cheerios into her mouth, her phone began ringing from where she'd left it on the counter.

She hurriedly skipped back into kitchen, reaching across and spinning the phone so she could see the number and...that hot, cold sweat sliced through her.

Outbound from the detention center.

Arnold.

She pressed the side button to silence the ringing, but she didn't have the guts to actually hit the big red ignore circle. To be honest, she wasn't even sure why either. Maybe because he would know that she had ignored him instead of just...missed his call. An idea that was entirely stupid, because the last she should have been afraid of was causing _him_ distress. As ridiculous as it was, she still just stood there and waited for the call to flip over to voicemail, feeling even more hotness rise up at the prospect of him actually leaving her one.

And _bing._

He had.

Now her heart was really pounding as she sat her forgotten cereal down on the counter top, staring at the little red alert of doom pinned to her green phone icon. She clicked on it and then into her voicemail section, again, not entirely wanting, _or_ having the guts to listen to his voice, and thus, relying on the transcription feature instead. She waited a moment before it finally loaded: " _Hey. Can you please come see me tomorrow? I love you. Bye."_

Helga sighed and ran a hand up over and through her hair before just dimming her phone out and trying to salvage her soggy dinner.

* * *

 **One week later.**

Sid walked into the bar, surprisingly not seeing Brian already waiting, as he usually was. It was a seat yourself kind of joint and so he took it upon himself to grab their favorite booth, seeing as he didn't much feel like sitting at the bar amongst all the other regular flies hovering there.

No offense. He had no problem with bar regulars. But sometimes he preferred the privacy of a secluded booth. And he hated _eating_ at the bar. Plus, Jeremy had said he was joining that night. He had barely taken his seat when Brian came strolling through the heavy wooden door, catching sight of his friend before heading that way.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," He apologized and he slide into the opposite side of the booth.

Sid waved off his attempted apology, "I just sat down. Haven't even ordered anything," He assured as he plucked one of the flimsy plastic tri-fold menus from the wire condiment holder.

"Eating tonight, huh?"

"Yeah…Rhonda flew out yesterday to New York for the week for some fashion show thing or something so…I'm baching it until Sunday."

Brian chuckled, "You do remember that you have somebody that makes your food right?"

"I know, but I feel bad asking her to cook for just me. Besides…sometimes I just want to eat shitty bar food."

"Whatever floats your boat man."

"What's floating his boat?" Jeremy walked up to the booth wearing a smirk as he motioned Brian to scoot down.

"Choosing to eat sketchy bar food instead of having his cook feed him."

"Some men just want to see the world burn." Jeremy chuckled as he sat down, catching an unamused, but friendly gander from his partner.

At that moment, one of the waitresses scampered up to her pair of regulars, "What can I get you two started off with tonight?"

"A Stella, and a water," Brian replied with a tight smile.

"Miller, in a glass please and the loaded nachos, add jalapeños, and banana peppers," Sid snapped the flimsy menu shut and tucked it back into the holder.

"And how about you?"

"Guinness, please." Jeremy requested.

"You got it."

"So, wild week huh?" Brian chirped, leaning back in the booth while folding his arms across his chest. The precinct had been nothing short of a buzz since storage unit had been cracked open with a treasure of fresh hell inside.

Jeremy snorted, "You think?"

"Well I mean, it hitting the news cycle didn't help."

Sid rolled his eyes in aggravation. None of it directed towards Brian though, and luckily, his friend got that, "Yeah, that went to hell fast."

The waitress was super speedy with their drink orders, having beers down in front of them before they could barely get into any meaningful conversation.

"Have you guys found anything good out of what's-her-name's car?" Brian inquired, taking a frothy sip of his settling beer, "I'm assuming no blood, because I didn't get a call."

"There were a few things, but we won't know anything until the lab gets back to us, and despite us being priority, they're talking about it being several weeks before we know anything."

" _What?_ " Brian's face crumpled up in a disbelieving expression, "That's kind of ridiculous."

"We're having to send some of it to a third party lab and they're backed up I guess," Sid took a big gulp of his beer. "You know what I don't get though?"

Brian chortled, a single brow of his lifting high above his blue eyes, "I was waiting for that."

"Me too. He never shuts off."

Sid in return chuckled himself, "What?" He smirked.

"Every time we agree to hang out after work to shoot the shit anymore, you want to get _deep_ into work."

"You were the one that started asking all the questions."

"As a common courtesy as most people would ask after their day at work." Brian defended with a subtle smirk.

Yet, his friend held his hands up defensively, but looking a little bummed, "Sorry. I know it's a bother. We can just decompress and talk sports tonight."

Brian then glanced at Jeremy, who gave him a non-committal shrug, "I doesn't matter to me what we talk about."

"Well, as long as we're talking about the crime of the century for Hillwood. I don't really care to discuss anything else we're working on," Brain laughed, and threw him a pair of shooter hands.

"Really? You sure you aren't interested in the gang shooting from last night?" Sid smirked, visually perking up but still giving his eyes a toss. All he wanted to do what talk about murder house. To anybody that would listen. It was his way of working through his theories and trying to find a reason or pattern to the madness.

"I'll pass," Brian rolled his eyes in return.

"Suit yourself. Jay can only listen to so much of my crap," He chortled.

"And there's a lot of it," Jeremy teased in reply.

Brian lifted his shoulder once in a 'what-the-heck' manner, "I hear that."

"Okay, so…you know what's going on. We find who is probably Monica in the deep freezer, and we _finally_ locate her missing car which is great and all but…her being missing without a trace always left the possibility that she just…walked away, even if that's super far fetched."

"Uh huh…"

"But now we've got… _probably_ her in Helga's storage unit. We all know _she_ didn't put her there, or move her car."

"…yeah?"

"I've just begun to find myself thinking almost _every_ day: Why her?"

Brian blinked for a moment, before stating what he considered to be the fairly obvious answer, "Cause he's a…predator?"

"Which is what I said," Jeremy chimed in as he took a sip of his stout.

Sid was quick to throw his friends a be serious type of furrowed glare, "I get that but, _why_ pick somebody so close to him? He had to have known that it would raise a _ton_ of eyebrows that two women, whom he was close to, went missing around him. That it would look more than a little coincidental."

"And I told him that this is a game to Arnold."

Brian glanced between his two friends momentarily, "Or maybe he just lost control."

"The logic is just flawed though."

"How?"

"Okay lets lay it out. So, let's assume the affair _was_ taking place, Monica gets all…clingy, or maybe he tries to end it and she threatens to out him to Helga."

Before Sid could go on, Brian immediately got where he was going with his framework of a theory. "He's looking at…what? A nasty divorce?" He asked in assumption.

Jeremy shook his head, "They aren't married."

" _But_ …" Sid held his index finger up, "Still probably looking at a break-up. Helga owns the house so he'd be out…and then…" His eyebrows rose up his forehead, "And then I guess he'd be looking at some…probably pretty pricey child support payments for many years to come."

"They have kids now?" Brian asked.

"They're _having_ one," Jeremy replied, covering but unable to _completely_ hide the disdain coating his tone.

"Shit," Brian took a big gulp of drink, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity, "As if she weren't already scarred enough from dating Doctor Death. Talk about salt in the wound."

Jeremy shot his blonde headed co-worker a slanted look before rolling his eyes and turning back to his beer, "We get it. It's a shit show," He muttered.

"Doctor Death?" Sid remarked, "You been talking to my wife?" He chuckled.

Brian shrugged, proudly grinning, "That's what we've nicknamed him down in spat."

"Doctor Death and the old Murder House. Hmm…" Jeremy said before taking another quiet sip form his drink. "Has a ring to it I suppose."

Before Sid could form a reply to either of them, their waitress scooted up to the booth with a platter of nachos, "Here you go!" She slid them down in front of Sid.

"That was fast," He remarked in relief. He was actually pretty hungry, and the beer he was halfway through had done absolutely nothing to curb his appetite either. It's what he got for having sushi for lunch, though.

"Yep," She cheerily replied, "Everything look okay? Need anything?"

"Uh, looks great, thanks!" And with that, she skipped away, leaving the three men to carry on with their conversation, "Well anyway," Sid continued, deciding to get them back into a conversation of substance after shoving a few pipping hot nachos into his mouth, "As I was saying: He'd lose a relationship, a place to live and it would cost him some money. However, _none_ of that is any where _near_ as remotely severe as his darkest secret being outed because he killed somebody close to him. _Again._ "

Brian tilted his head at Sid, casting him a very serious look, "You're having doubts is what you're saying."

"That's exactly what he's saying," Jeremy replied first.

Sid sighed, feeling the growing fatigue of his continued skepticism rolling off of his partner in thick bands. So much so that part of him wished the dude would have just bowed out of drinks that night so he could have chit-chatted with Brian alone but, it was what it was. "I'm saying…I just want to understand his thought process. And as of right now, the Monica bit just doesn't make any _sense_ to me."

Brian sat forward and propped his elbows onto the table, "I suppose it really doesn't _have_ to make sense at this point. There was a dead girl in a chest freezer in a storage unit he had access to."

"Thank you," Jeremy too sat back in his seat, crossing his arms in a triumphant huff.

And feeling very outnumbered at that point, Sid lamely shrugged one shoulder, "There is a reason to everything," He tried.

Jeremy smirked and shook his head, "Sometimes, there just isn't."

"Not true," Sid countered with a little smirk of his own. All joking aside, no matter what either of his friends had to say, he was believer in all actions having reason. Nothing was random in the world in his eyes.

"It's _very_ true."

"Nope."

Brian quietly sighed and polished off his first beer, "Alright. Well, if either you care, here's my take then. I think Monica was a crime of passion," He suggested as a sort of…challenge. He figured that's what Sid wanted. Something to ponder.

A challenge that Sid nodded understandingly to before inhaling, "But the evidence doesn't _suggest_ any of the others being passion killings. Outside of Taylor, they are all randoms with no personal connection to him or Helga."

"He lost control. He lost control with Taylor. Five years later he loses control with Monica. You just said the biggest reason that he had to take her out," Brian countered.

"What?" Sid queried as he shoved a few more nachos into his hungry mouth.

"Helga owns the property. Chances are, Monica was going to out him."

"I don't think that's his only killing field either," Jeremy chimed in. "He's been doing this longer than they've lived on that property."

"It's probably not," Brian agreed, "But it would still be something he wouldn't have eyes on every day."

"Ironically, he lost control of that one anyway," Sid reckoned as an after thought while he was mid-chew.

"Thank God for those dogs, right?" Brian tried, "Hey, all serial killers make miscalculations, but I couldn't see him _willingly_ giving up access to his 'trophy room' so to speak. If Helga booted him out because of infidelity, losing control of his killing field was one hundred percent. He probably had a sixty percent chance of slipping under the radar by taking Monica out." He rocked his empty glass in a circular motion on the table. "The odds seem to point at his reasoning to me."

"Yeah…" Sid stopped eating, running his clean hand through his hair, "Perhaps that _was_ his reasoning. Not good reasoning, but reasoning none the less."

"Thank you," Jeremy replied with a nod.

"So you agree with me?" Brain looked over at his friend.

"I think he's nothing more than a psychopathy that's been hiding among the general pop for a _long_ time. Personally, I think that sometimes, he likes to get involved with his victims as a game, and I think that's what we see with Taylor and Monica."

"Makes you wonder…" Brian trailed off, glancing over to the bar, hoping to catch the eye of their waitress for a second round, "How long before the cross hairs landed on Helga?" Sid's eyebrow lifted in dark wonder as he watched his friend's eyes shift back onto him while Jeremy's subtly darkened, "What? You _just_ said that _you_ think him getting involved with some of his victims was probably a game. Just saying. If that is the case. I don't think her odds were good."

Sid watched his partner lick his lips in discomfort before he took a large gulp of beer. He could tell that what Brian had proposed was bothering him. Casually taking a another bite of nachos, he replied, "Nothing would have ever happened to her."

A statement that had Brian snorting while shooting him an generally absurd look, "That's _awfully_ generous of you."

Sid stopped, "I'm serious. Having gotten caught, I do strongly believe he would have ditched her, dead or alive once they made it across the border. _However_ , had he never gotten outed, _no_ …I don't think he would have ever done anything to her."

"Really?" Brian frowned in surprise, "You truly believe that?"

Sid nodded, "Yeah."

"I think he would have eventually taken her out."

"Nah. Those guys thrive on being invisible. They have families, careers, are pillars of the community. All that stuff."

"Well, you know what? Thankfully, we'll never have to know," Jeremy killed the conversation with that.

* * *

The three men stepped out into the night, letting the door to the bar swing closed behind them as they walked a few steps down the sidewalk.

"Damn," Sid remarked as he noticed Jeremy's truck parked right out in front of the restaurant, "How'd you get such a good spot?"

"It was open," His partner shrugged, shooting him a snarky little grin.

"Alright well, I'm parked in the back lot so, see you bright and early tomorrow morning," Sid gestured towards the building as he began to head towards the side alley.

Brian made to follow him, "Me too."

"See you tomorrow," Jeremy gave a flick of the fingers style of wave before moving to his truck and getting in.

Once he was effectively backed out into the street and his two friends about halfway down the short alley leading to the back parking lot, Brian remarked, "You're right. This crap is definitely eating away at him."

Sid halfway looked over his shoulder, "I told you."

"I actually kind of feel bad for him now. I'm thinking he might still be in love with her."

His friend stopped and gave him an very unconvinced look, "Okay, I used the word love as in...caring. Like caring too much to the point of irrational decision making," Sid began walking, "Same with me saying he might still be spiteful," Exiting the alley before making to veer right towards his vehicle.

Brian half rolled his eyes at his friends back, not convinced at all of his analysis, "Well, he isn't spiteful. I can tell that much."

"Agreed."

"I think if he arrived home tonight, and she was standing on his doorstep, begging him to take her back, he would...baggage and all," He said, pulling his keys from his pocket.

"That's even more farfetched."

"Whatever man. Just keep an eye on him."

Sid halted again and looked back towards his friend, who'd himself, stopped a few feet away from him, "Why do you say that?"

The dirty blonde man shrugged, "I don't know. He might embarrass himself. Just keep an eye on him. See you later," He popped his head in a goodbye gesture before continuing straight, towards the back of the lot.

* * *

 **Two days later.**

"Hey losers," Both Sid and Jeremy looked up from their desks, both knowing that it was Haley from the morgue. Which meant…possible news.

"Haley, don't pretend like you weren't _dying_ to come see me," Jeremy leaned back in his chair, giving her a cheesy little grin while popping his eyebrows. "What you got for us?"

Haley rolled her eyes, "Anybody ever told you, you look like a lion king character with that eyebrow," She teased in the most dead panned way possible.

Sid snorted, "Ouch."

Jeremy inhaled and puffed his chest out a little, refusing to let her have the last laugh at him, "I was actually going for that Khal Drogo look."

" _Please,_ " Haley brushed off his fantasy.

"Double ouch."

"Anyway, your presence is requested below," She told them, referring to the department realm in which she worked.

The two detective jumped out of their seats, eagerly following her to the elevator to descend into the basement. While waiting on the two floor drop, Haley looked over at Jeremy for a moment before finally asking, "How did you get that scar anyway, Kirk?"

Jeremy snorted, "Why would I tell you?"

"Fine. Be an asshole."

The detective sighed, removing his toothpick, "When I was seventeen. Me and my _then_ girlfriend were driving back from a bonfire one night when a deer jumped in front of my jeep. And…instead of just hitting the thing, I swerved, over corrected and flipped the vehicle twice down an embankment. The scar is from glass."

"Jesus," Haley grimaced, "Was _then_ girlfriend okay?"

"Yeah," He nodded, hazily remembering laying on the broken window, eyes flooded with blood, hearing Helga cry out for him, "We were both just bruised up pretty bad. Sounds a lot worse than it actually was."

The elevator doors parted and the three stepped off and into a hallway, which they then followed Haley down and into the main autopsy area. The coroner was waiting, flipping through some papers he had pulled from a holder, "You finally got something for us, Bill?" Sid said, as they walked up on the chubby older man.

Bill looked over his wire rimmed glasses at the two boys strutting up with his assistant. "Finally," He echoed them before placing a piece of paper down on one of the stainless counters, "Your Jane Doe is now Meredith Tomlin," The two men's faces dropped, "Arrested on three different occasions for prostitution and reported missing by her sister in January. Did I do enough homework for you two?"

"I'm sorry, who?" Jeremy asked…for the both of them.

Bill shot them both a bizarre look, "Is she suppose to be somebody else?" He asked a little on the sarcastic side.

"Well, yeah," Jeremy replied, coming off as a little ungrateful.

At that, Sid decided to intervene, shaking his head, still feeling shell-shocked by the revelation, "No, Bill. Sorry, we were just…one hundred percent sure it was going to be a different girl is what he's saying."

"Ah," Bill nodded once, "Well, I can't help you with _that_ problem. Cause of death was strangulation, with a broken hyoid bone, just like the other eleven girls."

"Anything else? You said she was reported missing in January?"

"Mmhmm. And I believe that she was held for awhile. She's got bruising around her wrists and ankles, newer and old tissue bruising."

"You're saying that he held her and..."

"Tortured her," Jeremy finished.

Bill sighed and scratched his forehead, "She's wasn't in good shape at the time of her death, let's put it that way. She also had heavy signs of repeated sexual assault."

Sid and Jeremy's eyebrow's perked, "That was one thing you couldn't determine on the others."

Bill nodded, before pulling his glasses from his head, appearing to become very uncomfortable with what he was about to say, "I've been doing autopsies for twenty-five years and I've seen just about _everything_. But what he did to this girl made me _ill,_ " He said in a very hollowed tone, "The good news is: I caught a trace bit of semen under the UV that was left on the shirt she was wearing, so as soon as the lab gets back to me with that, we can figure out if it belongs to your guy or not."

"Well, let's hope they are speedy about it," Jeremy sighed, giving side a quick glance before turning back to Bill, "They're dragging their feet with some other stuff of ours."

Bill nodded, completely understanding their annoyance. "Outsourcing was one of the worst decisions this department ever made. But I digress," He held his hands up before shooting them one last knowing look.

On the way back up to their floor, Jeremy looked over at Sid who seemed to be in some pretty deep thought judging by the creased nature of his brow. "You know how I keep saying he's got a second killing field?"

"He tortured them," Sid almost mumbled.

Jeremy's eyebrow quirked, "Yeah…that's what I was about to get at. He has a spot. Maybe a cabin or something. I think we should request a full wooded search up around Helga's parent's place in the mountains."

"He wasn't just…abducting and strangling them. He was…holding them…torturing them…raping them before killing them," How could this guy get any more evil? It didn't seem _possible._ The elevator doors parted and the pair stepped off. Sid finally shook his head free of the thought in favor of giving his partner an attentive look, "Yeah, I uh…I agree with you. We still have a missing girl."

Yet his partner looked rather annoyed by his response. "Look man, he held that girl for four months," Jeremy pointed away, other hand on his hip in a aggravated stance of a pose. "Four _months._ "

Sid shook his head and ran one of his hands through his hair. He got what his friend was trying to say, but the odds just weren't in their favor, "Jay, there is no _way_ that girl could possibly still be alive. Even if he didn't kill her," He grimly replied, feeling a nasty churn roll in his gut, "If he's got her...tied up in some dinky cabin somewhere, she's probably dead from exposure or...starvation," He sighed, "We need to try to force it out of him. Somehow..."

Jeremy scoffed, reluctantly nodding as he looked away, "We still should try to hunt for her," He turned back to Sid, "Something like a cabin or...old basement will be easier to find than a shallow grave."

* * *

 **Three Days Later.**

Helga walked into a local cafe', predictably late while Phoebe had been predictably early. She was honestly surprised her friend still bothered being early for their lunches anymore...and she honestly wondered how she could never seem to be on time to eat, despite being punctual in every other facet of her life. To be fair, she for once would have actually _been_ on time had it not been for a phone call from Bob about the fact that HWPD was re-searching his cabin in the mountains. He was angry about it, but not with her. As if there were anything she could have done about it anyway. The blonde walked up, tossing her tote bag into the booth as Phoebe looked up from whatever she was reading on her phone. And predictably there was already a glass of water waiting on her.

"Hey," Helga greeted as she slid in, offering her a tired smile a best. To Phoebe she looked _terrible._ Not like she were disheveled in appearance or anything, but she could tell that her friend was exhausted and emotional and her eyes were a looking glass into her ruptured soul like never before. She could only offer back a pursed lip kind of smile. "I'd say sorry I'm late but...it is what it is anymore I suppose."

"It's okay," Her friend nodded, flipping the menu open to see what she could find. She was actually rather hungry that afternoon. A few moments went by before Phoebe sighed, "I...don't even _want_ to ask how you're doing because...I can only imagine."

"Yeah. Feels like a nightmare, you know?" Helga looked back up and out of the window they were sitting next to, "How do you wake up next to a serial killer every morning and not ever realize it?" She asked, glancing back at her raven haired companion. "How does this happen?"

"I don't know that you could have known...unless you were looking for it."

"My head gets it, you know? He's an animal. But the rest of me is waiting for this to be a misunderstanding," Helga tiredly sighed and reached over for her water, taking a few big gulps. "He's called me almost every other night for over a week now. And I haven't had the nerve to answer _any_ of them."

Phoebe wanted to be surprised but, given the things going on at her house, she wasn't at all shocked to hear that. "Gerald is still talking to him."

" _How?_ "

"Because he still believes him," Phoebe sat back in the booth, crossing her arms in a very uncharacteristic form of aggravation for her, "It's causing a lot of strain on our household right now, if we're being honest."

It was hard for Helga to imagine the two of them even bickering about something, much less dealing with a strain being placed on their relationship by a third party. She would be a liar if she said it didn't upset her to hear that. Ultimately it was none of her business what Gerald did, but it clearly bothered Phoebe. "I'm sorry Pheebs."

"I can't even _talk_ to him about it anymore. He just wont even hear it, and then we just argue about it," Phoebe went on, "And he thinks I'm the one not being reasonable about it all. A lifetime of friendship somehow overrides hard facts or him."

"He's in denial. I'm even still a little in denial," Helga tried, "Give him some time."

* * *

 **Two Days Later.**

Jeremy peeked into the break room, bright and early, catching Sid making his high octane cup of morning sludge. "Hey, Nina wants to see us."

His partner practically snapped his neck turning from the coffee maker, "Hallelujah," He brought his mug to his slip for a quick sip before following Jeremy down the hallway. They both practically power walked, attempting to look professional about it, but dying to know what had come back analysis. The two coolly walked into the lab, seeing Nina hovered over something on a table in her little white coat, as usual.

"We're here," Jeremy announced happily.

"What took you so long?" Nina looked up with a slight smirk.

"I can only walk so fast with coffee," Sid remarked, taking another sip of his brew. "Wouldn't want to spill any of this black gold."

Nina snorted, "I'm pretty sure that stuff is too thick to spill," She walked over, grabbed a folder from the edge of her work top and approached them. "Firstly, no finger prints or hair in the freezer. And if you are curious about evidence collected by Bill, we're still waiting on that."

"Fair enough," Sid agreed.

Nina opened up the first folder and pulled the flap all the way around to the back, "Car dust down, we did find one print. A palm print of his across the top door frame and roof," She handed the folder off to Jeremy. "Strands of hair present all through the car. Stain in the trunk came back as red wine, _however_..." She leaned in a flipped them two pages down, "That crusty wadded up washcloth they recovered, was covered in semen, which came back as a DNA match to your guy."

Jeremy's eyebrow crept upward and he looked over at Sid, "I guess that answers the question on whether or not there was an affair."

* * *

 **That Night.**

"Boy howdy, this is fantastic," Sid beamed as she forked another bite of pan fried chicken into his mouth. Across the short table, Rhonda chuckled before taking a sip of red wine.

"Things taste better when not re-heated all the time huh?" She teased, subtly chiding him about his numerous late nights, but with no real annoyance. He would admit that she was right. He doubted the french chicken, and roasted vegetables in...whatever sauce was covering it could have ever tasted better than it did pipping hot out of the pan. Maddie was amazing.

"Maddie!" Sid leaned back in his chair, looking off to the doorway of the kitchen. The middle-aged woman peaked out, eyebrows high on her forehead, "You're too good to us," He smiled.

Maddie snorted, and waved him off, "Eat your food."

Sid chuckled, leaning back forward and forking more of those roasted vegetable into his mouth. After a long day, it was really nice to go home at a reasonable hour and have a nice dinner with his wife. The two of the chatted about anything but work. Vacation plans for whenever he got a free moment to actually take some much earned time off. He had finished his plate...and a second and had just downed his the last of his beer when his phone started going off. He expected it to be work...dispatch alerting him to something, but it was a un-familiar number, but it being a work phone, he was required to answer it.

"Hello?"

 _"Hey Sid, it's Helga."_

"Hey," He sat back, glancing over at Rhonda who was mouthing ' _who is it?'_ at him, "Everything okay?" He asked before mouthing _'Helga'_ back at her. She nodded before standing up and gathering their two plates to take to the kitchen.

 _"Yeah I uh...I had a free moment and...look I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time I just kind of...want to know...you know?"_

"No, you are fine," He assured, getting up from the table and heading across the apartment to his office for some privacy, "I've been...expecting you to call me for a little while now anyway so..."

 _"I know..."_ He heard her sigh, _"Sorry."_

"Don't be. Look," He ran his hand over the back of his neck, "I'll be honest. I don't really have any delicate way of telling you everything that we know at this point. I'm almost tempted to tell you to just come see me bu—"

 _"—I don't necessarily want to see it."_

"Right," Sid nodded, "I understand. So...the girl in the freezer wasn't Monica. It was a _working_ girl," He termed it as nicely as possible. He hated the word prostitute, "We're...very sure that he...kept her alive for...months. There was signs of abuse and...sexual assault."

 _"Jesus Christ..."_ He heard her mumble, _"You're still trying to find her."_

"We are. We have...physical evidence all over Monica's apartment and vehicle that strongly points to a...sexual relationship between the two. We think that...quite possibly it's the reason why...she's missing to begin with," Sid replied as evenly as he could, trying to have zero inflection in any part of his voice or tone. When she didn't say anything or...make any immediate attempt to ask in questions he shut his eyes in complete dread, "I'm sorry, Helga. I didn't want this to be true anymore than you do."

 _"I know,"_ She replied, and he could hear the tears in her voice. It broke his heart. Absolutely cracked it. _"Hey, thanks for talking to me."_ He heard her sniff, "I'll _uh...call me if something turns up."_

"Helga...if you need anything from us, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I mean that."

 _"I know, Sid. I appreciate it. Have a good night."_

Sid nodded, "You take care of yourself," Was the only thing he could think to reply with before hanging up after he knew she had disconnected the call.

* * *

 **A/N:** I don't know. I'm kind of just...twisting the knife deeper into Arnold. Either he's a scum bag in hiding or...nothing is what it seems. Happy reading!


	9. Dead Man Walking Tonight

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Hey Arnold, or anything else that I've mentioned.

 **Summary:** Helga, never imagined that one rash decision at a party, would turn her life completely on its head six years later, and leave her in a twisted web of secrets, lies and deceit. The skeletons are coming out. For Hillwood, it's the crime of the century. A love/crime/triangle drama! R&R!

 **A/N:** Pre-warning. This is a LONG chapter. I did not intend it to be that way, but I couldn't really find a good spot to break it. However, it moves the plot nicely, since we've got a few more twists ahead, and Helga finally answers some questions about her life moving forward, particularly about the baby, which hasn't been a big focal point of the story. Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

 **Dead man walking tonight.**

"I know, Sid. I appreciate it. Have a good night." Helga said before pulling the phone away from her ear and setting it down on the desk in order to rest her head in her hand. It was dark, and it was quiet in the office she was sitting in within her house.

Arnold's office.

She'd never had much use for them. Choosing to work wherever she damn well pleased. There was no reason for her to be in there, other than it felt fitting in some dark way. She sniffed, and sat back in the large brown leather chair, staring at the other items that were decorating the room through the massive shadows cast by the light from the hallway.

She found herself wondering. Wondering how much debauchery had been planned out in there. Had that been what he would do when he'd hole himself up behind that door, claiming he had things to study for. Had that studying consisted of a girl that he was planning to go after next?

Had he brought them there? Had _Monica_ been there too? Had he had her in their bed? Her stomach turned but she was _quick_ to dismiss it. That girl was just as much of a victim as the rest, and any judgment of her deeds in any capacity was utterly _uncalled_ for. It put things into perspective for her though.

How _lucky_ she was.

Those girls got cut down by him like youthful weeds, but she got away. They ended up in the ground but _she_ got to walk away with nothing but a tattered sense of trust and an unique story.

God, did that send a chill down her spin. How _had_ she gotten to walk away? What made her so special?

It made her sick, but more importantly, she found herself becoming downright _angry_ at him. A hateful angry of a caliber she'd never felt towards anyone before. With a huff, she reached out and flipped on the lamp, eyes adjusting from the dark while she stared at the contents neatly stacked atop the desk. She began flipping through it, most of it being junk mail and a random insurance renewal packet.

Sighing, she then reached down and began yanking open the drawers and rifling through them with vigor, not really sure what she was hunting, just…for something.

Something that would…make her hate him more. That's what she wanted. More fuel. Which made the _worst_ sense to her. She wanted a piece of paper that said: _I'm Arnold Shortman and I lived a double life._ In his hand writing, of course. It was so stupid. Besides, her house had already been sifted through by police and as far as she knew, nothing of value had come out of it.

Because there _wasn't_ anything. She knew he was smarter than that. There had been a reason he'd carried on for so long while she and the rest of the world had been none-the-wiser. Still, she hated it, slamming the drawer shut before reaching across the desk to grab his globe paper weight and spitefully chunk it across the room.

The bang it made against the wall, and the minor dent it left in the old wood paneling was oddly satisfying to her. She then reached over and grabbed her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she came across John Tenants business line and dialed out, bringing it to her ear to listen to the rings. She knew nobody would pick up. It was after hours, but she needed to do it now just for herself.

When it clicked over to the voicemail, she reclined back in chair, "Hey John, this is Helga Pataki. Listen, in light of recent events, I'm no longer going to require your services for Arnold. If he wishes to retain your legal counsel he'll have to do so on his own. Give me a call tomorrow if need be. Thanks."

* * *

 **Four days later.**

Helga turned off of the main road onto the side road that doubled as her long driveway, stopping to grab any mail she might have had out of her mailbox before continuing on. As she rounded the small wooded bend, she caught sight of a familiar green SUV parked in her driveway, eyebrows creeping up as she pondered why on earth he would be sitting at her house, seemingly waiting on her arrival.

She vaguely remembered having a missed call from him a few days back, and...had completely forgotten to call him back. That was weird in of itself because he'd never once called her for _anything_. And now he was sitting at her house.

She pulled up beside him, parking, hitting the garage door button and getting out as he removed himself from his own vehicle. Walking towards the garage, she stopped in front of the front of her SUV before looking back at him as he walked over. "Hey Gerald," She greeted her best friend's husband. "What's up?"

He was usually a friendly guy, and they had had no real issue with one another since they were children. One could even say that they got on better than amicably, _however,_ Helga wasn't blind to the fact that he looked downright _irritated_ with her. And she were clueless as to how that was even a possibility. Surely not over a forgotten missed call.

"Have you been super busy or something?" He asked while he crossed his arms and practically glared at her.

"I mean, yeah. I could use a few more hours in the day," She defensively replied, "Is there a _problem_ with that?" She then crossed her arms.

"You've been ignoring his phone calls."

At that, Helga's mouth parted. Of course. Of _fucking_ course! Gerald was still the ever obedient believer. "So now he's sending you out here to ambush me?" She retorted, throwing him her own well practiced glare. "Fucking insane…" She rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk into her garage bay, completely done with anymore conversation he could possibly want to hold.

"Well, seeing as you can't seem to pick up your Goddamn phone, I had no choice," When that got no reply, only her continued walking away, he frowned deeply, "That's messed up, Helga. You can't just abandon him like this!"

She stopped, inhaling before turning back around to resume her dagger like glare at him, "Abandoned _him_?" She incredulously repeated, subconsciously finding herself taking a few steps in his direction, as much as she were ready to get away from him, "How about _he_ abandoned all of _normal_ fucking society when he started killing people!" She exacerbated, feeling the heat starting to rise up her neck.

Her blood pressure was probably of the _charts_ those days.

Gerald exhaled and closed his eyes for a brief moment, raising his hand up and balling it into a fist in the thinking kind of way. Helga assumed he was thinking about anything but the logical, and she was ready for him to just say whatever crap he felt like he needed to and leave. His eyes finally fluttered open and he fixed her with a tilted stare, "He didn't do any of this, Helga. You of all people should know him better than tha—"

"—I obviously didn't!" She cut him off, "And neither did _you._ "

"Not true. That's _not_ true."

She sputtered with a laugh that had not a trace of humor in it. Fully brought on by stress and sheer aggravation with the _entire_ situation that had been sprung on her, "So you think I just...woke up one morning and started going about my life like he never existed?" She rhetorically asked him, "You think any of this is _easy_ for me to do? It's _not._ " She swallowed hard, feeling her throat tighten and her eyes turn glassy,"Denial is easy, Gerald. Acceptance is _much_ harder. I loved that man more than any other human being on this planet. But he was a _lie_. _You_ love a lie. _I'm_ still in love with a lie and I... _hurt_ nonstop because of it. I _want_ to believe him just so the pain will go away, but I _can't_. There's _nothing_ to believe in," Reaching up, she delicately wiped the bottoms of her eyes with her thumb.

Gerald sighed, "Helga I..."

"Just leave. And don't you _ever_ show up at my house for some crap like this again."

* * *

"I thought for sure, there would have been something in the woods where that cabin is," Sid commented as he flipped through the boat loads of photos that had been taken on the most recent scour.

Jeremy looked up from some paperwork that he was filling out, peering at his partner across their desks, "It's mind boggling isn't it?"

"If he was keeping these girls someplace for...extended periods of time. It had to be somewhere that was secluded. The area where this cabin is makes the most sense, but nothing," He went on, becoming more and more disappointed by his conclusion.

"The thing is," Jeremy began, propping both of his elbows up on the desk, twirling his pen around in his hand, "There are so many old cellars out in the woods from houses that are no more, he could have been using one of those almost anywhere around here or in neighboring counties. The odds just aren't in our favor."

He was correct. Sid recalled all the old staircases, chimneys and root cellars they he'd stumbled across out in the wilderness as a kid on various fishing trips. A lot of it was creepy as fuck, and now even more so. Nothing would raise the hairs on ones neck like stumbling across a random dilapidated one room house in the middle of the woods. Jeremy himself had been fascinated by the phenomenon when he'd first moved there, having come from Florida.

"He's got to tell us. If not, it's like trying to find a needle in a hay stack."

Jeremy snorted, "Good luck with that. That dude is willing to take a needle versus admit to this."

"I'm to the point where I'm ready to just...beat it out of him and accept being fired for abusing a prisoner," Sid chuckled, scooting all of the photos back into the folder they came from. "And that's unlike me."

"I get it man. A girls still missing. She could have been saved, and he's playing stupid," Jeremy flatly noted, before leaning back in his chair, "It's why I've gotten back into going to the shooting range in the evenings. Helps me blow off steam."

Sid nodded, "Yeah, I probably should start going back too."

* * *

 **One Week Later.**

Helga was walking off of a job site—that troublesome gym—and about to climb back into her SUV when her phone began buzzing away in her back pocket. She threw everything into her passenger seat before reaching around a grabbing the device, only to see that it was one of her parents. She subtly rolled her eyes as she shut the door and turned the ignition over, "Hey," She answered.

 _"Hey,"_ She heard her mother say, " _I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."_

"You're fine. What's up?"

 _"Well, Olga and Hampton are stopping by tomorrow..."_

"Stopping by?" Helga frowned, "They live in _Houston._ "

 _"They were in Vancouver. Hamp's dad had a heart attack and an emergency surgery. Anyway, they decided to stop before going back home, and I think it would be nice to have a family dinner since it's been awhile."_

Helga sighed, but she made sure she titled the phone away enough that Miriam couldn't hear it, "What time?"

 _"Six, but come as early as you want. I'm sure your sister would like to spend some time with you."_

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then."

* * *

 **Friday.**

If her mother thought she was going to arrive several hours early to spend extra time with her sister, she was nuts. She showed up thirty minutes before the time she had been given and even that couldn't spare her the bear hug that Olga wrapped her in the very minute she walked through her parent's front door. "Oh, it's so good to see you," He sister gushed before pulling away, yet still firmly grasping Helga's arms and intently looking at her with that parental type of concern, "How have you been holding up?"

Helga never had much to chit-chat with her sister about. They were amicable, but if she were honest, they'd probably never see each other if it weren't for their parents. It sounded harsh, but it really wasn't. The age gap, the different personalities, the geographical distance, none of it had lent it self to a warm, sisterly relationship between the two. Olga had at least grew to accept that once her younger sibling had hit high school and had wanted not much to do with any family, much less her. But it didn't stop her from still _trying._

"As well as to be expected, I guess," She replied, wishing Olga would let her go. She was beginning to feel like that was all she ever told people. Probably because that was all they ever asked.

"I've been thinking about you non-stop."

Helga tightly smiled, "Uh, thanks."

Olga gave her arms another gentle squeeze before they both walked into the kitchen where everybody else had naturally gravitated to in hunger. "Hey Helga," Hamp smiled.

"Hey," She smiled back, "How's your dad?"

"He's lucky. They were able to do a bypass," Olga's husband explained, "So...he and my mom are going to have to clean up their eating habits now. How are you doing?"

"Hanging in there," Helga replied as she leaned back against the counter, silently hoping that it would just get dropped there. And luckily it _did._ Her brother-in-law wisely chose to just nod. "Where the kids?" She suddenly realized she didn't hear or see her niece or nephew running amuck.

"They stayed with a friend of ours."

Helga nodded, "Smart," She admitted, unable to fathom having to drag a five and eight year old, twenty-five hundred miles on a plane for an emergency family situation. It was at that point that she willingly slinked into the background, watching her dad remove the prime rib he'd had going, out of the oven. The good stuff always got brought out when Olga was home. Her parent were much better about it than they used to be, but in a lot of regards, nothing had changed. She at least understood it more as she got older. Their oldest child wasn't around as much, and hadn't been since the age of twenty. They were chronically excited to see her, because she had been chronically absent.

As much as she loved to travel, she'd never had any desire to move some place random for any extended period of time. Sure, she'd wanted out of her parents house as soon as she'd graduated, but she hadn't felt the need to leave Hillwood to get away. But perhaps Olga's feverish wanderlust had been her passive-aggressive way of getting away from the tense Pataki household. After all, Miriam hadn't officially quit drinking until Helga's freshmen year in college and Bob's work-a-holic self hadn't retired until two years after.

Them becoming retired old people was the best thing to ever happen, as far as Helga was concerned. She actually felt like she had normal parents for once.

Miriam moved all the sides onto the family dining room and Bob provided his prized meat, neatly cut into thickish slabs for everybody to help themselves to. Once the glassware had been set the Pataki clan took their seats, elder parents at each end while daughters and spouse filled in the middle chairs. Plates were filled, eating pursued and so did the chattering. Needless to say, Helga was _completely_ fine with letting her sister and brother-in-law be the carriers of conversation between her parents while she silently ate. As of lately, any chance she had at not being the elephant in the room was a blessing.

Her mind wandered off to the hole still in her patio and how she really needed to call the company that had poured the concrete and schedule a time for them to come fill that thing in and redo it. She couldn't have a crater back there any longer. It was an absolute eye sore, amongst other things. God and the floors up stairs too. Still bare. And there she was, inching closer and closer to her due date and hadn't done a single _thing_ with the room that was designated the nursery.

It had to be done. And she figured the coming weekend was as good of time as ever to start.

"So, Hampton and I have been thinking," Olga began smiling, "You guys should fly out to Houston and spend Christmas with us this year."

Miriam perked up and glanced across the table at her husband, silently chewing a mouthful of prime rib, "That actually sounds wonderful, don't you think B?"

"I guess," Bob kind of grumbled. He hated distance traveling. In any capacity, much less during the holidays. Helga imagined he saw nothing but a giant headache. And, as much as she _loved_ traveling, she would have to agree with what her dad was a hundred percent thinking.

Unfortunately, he couldn't dampen his older daughter's enthusiasm over the prospect though, as much as he would have liked to spare himself the high blood pressure, "It's been awhile since everybody was together for the holidays. We just think it would be nice," Olga continued to try to sell the idea.

"I guess it would be, I suppose," Their dad grumbled again, but finally relenting as he glanced back up at his wife, who appeared eager to fully accept the offer, "If you want to do that this year, we can."

Miriam happily nodded, "Yeah. I think we should," She enthused, already feeling energized by the idea of getting away for awhile, considering the type of year they'd had.

"What do you think Helga?" And of _course_ , Olga's unwanted attention then turned on her, "Our house for Christmas?"

The youngest blonde finished chewing before looking up at her sister's cheerfully awaiting face, "Uh…I mean…maybe," She shrugged while looking back at her plate to cut another piece of steak, however knowing that a vague response like that wouldn't be good enough for Olga, "I'll just have to see if I'm in the mood to travel with newborn. But, I'll be honest...I'm probably not going to feel like it."

There was no way in _hell_ she was going to be spending her Christmas trapped at her sister's house in Houston. Child or not. End of story and she hoped she squashed any begging that could possibly ensue right then or later down the road.

Across the table, her sister's mouth down turned into a curious frown as she looked to her plate to skewer herself a single piece of broccoli, "Hmm. So I guess you're actually keeping her then," She said in a much more quiet voice, trying to make it sound as if it were an afterthought, but forgetting that her younger sister knew her better than that.

It sent Helga's eyes fluttering up, as expected, watching her sister take that bite of vegetable, truly curious as to just what she had _meant_ by that, yet, knowing that she should just…let it go. They were having a nice dinner. There was no sense in adding any tension. But…she wouldn't. Just couldn't. Why? Because Olga _clearly_ wanted her to inquire. She very much _knew_ that, "Why wouldn't I?" She finally took the bait.

Olga didn't bothering looking at her right away, choosing to keep her eyes on her plate as she forked up a second bite of vegetables, all casual like, "I figured…everything considering, that you just probably _wouldn't_ be after she's born."

At that, Helga calmly abandoned her knife and fork in favor of sitting back in her chair a little bit in order to ponder where in the fuck Olga had gotten the audacity from, thinning her eyes considerably at her as she finally asked, "Wouldn't or _shouldn't?_ "

"Well, if we're being completely honest. Shouldn't."

"Because…?"

The eldest blonde sister finally looked up as if she were surprised that she had to say what she considered to be the obvious reason. "Because of _him._ "

"So…because he's a garbage human-being I'm expected to…toss her by association?" Helga very tensely clarified, coming to realize exactly _what_ her sister was implying. "It's not like she's a monster too or something."

"I know that, and it's nothing personal. I simply…assumed you'd be completely washing your hands of him. Which I think would be the best option. That's _all._ "

Helga huffed a sneering exhale that rolled into a short sarcastic little laugh, " _Wow._ Alright, let me ask you something. If we find out tomorrow that Hamp is a fucking serial killer—"

"—language," Miriam scolded as Helga casually motioned at her yuppy brother-in-law.

"—I can rest assured that you will be dropping Bradley and Kaitlin off at the nearest orphanage? You know…to wipe your hands clean of him. Which _obviously_ you should."

Olga huffed, becoming agitated enough to roll her eyes at her sister's _ridiculous_ suggestion, "That's different, Helga, and I didn't—"

"—How is it different Olga?" Helga asked, completely reclining back in her chair and crossing her arms. "How is _anything_ I just said, _different?_ "

"It's ridiculous, for one."

"You think it's different because _you_ don't think it could ever happen to yourself. So, no need to even consider it."

Olga plated her utensil as she locked eyes with her sister, "No I just don't think that you are aware that you're _still_ in a position to be able to _walk away,_ scot-free from this. You've always had a desire to deal with your problems on your own because you're entirely too headstrong, but you _don't_ have to be this time. Nobody is going to fault you for it either. You're young, you can start fresh, you can…have a normal life again."

Helga darkly chuckled.

 _Normal._

That was hilarious.

The idea of dating anybody else in _any_ foreseeable future made her brain absolutely _throb_. Over the course of twelve years, she'd struck out _twice._ Quite frankly she were afraid of any potential of a third strike. So afraid that she might just stay single forever. As if she could ever trust anybody again anyway. But that was beside the point. Because even with that newly forged thought in mind, she couldn't stifle the swell of anger rising up through her chest. That was why she preferred her sister in _very_ small doses. "Where is all this even _coming_ from? I don't even _talk_ to you. You have no _idea_ about _anything_ with me."

"But we do," Their mom finally chimed in, clearly referring to herself and Bob with eyes fixed on her youngest, "And as reclusive as you've been lately. We have no idea where your plans even _are_. You don't ever talk to us anymore." It was true, her communication with her parents had waned considerably. Partly because she was busy, partly because she just wanted to be alone, but also because Arnold, surprisingly, had facilitated a lot of her coming to really enjoy their company. And they themselves had liked him a _whole_ lot as well.

Go figure.

Helga wanted to be mad at her mom. She really did. But Miriam's concern was a genuine concern and actual desire to know and not some desperate need to give unwanted life advice. Which led her attention back to her wonderfully overbearing sister, whom she was certain, more than ever at that point, was still trying to shoehorn her opinion in behind some thinly veiled concern. "So basically you just know what mom tells you, as usual," She called her out before clearing her throat once, "Well, since everybody apparently wants to know and-or, give their unsolicited advice. _Yes._ I'm still planning to keep her."

Miriam visibly seemed like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, which told Helga that Olga was flying solo at that dinner table. "I just don't think you're looking at your future here."

"Oh just say it Olga," She glared at her sister. "It's because no matter what, a serial killer is always going to be the father of my child, and there can be nothing _normal_ about that."

Olga sighed, "Helga…"

"Trust me, I get how that is a black cloud, but Arnold being what he is hasn't changed how I feel about her."

"And I understand that, but—"

"—Clearly you _don't,_ " Helga irritably snapped back, "Or you wouldn't be running your damn mouth."

"Girls!" Bob finally barked, looking back and fourth between the two of them, wondering why the hell he was having to referee his two grown daughters like they were a pair of children. Everybody sat in silence for a split second before he finally went on with, "Enough already."

Helga looked at her dad before turning her eyes back to her sister while throwing her napkin onto the table, "Yeah I think I'm done here," She stood from her chair and picked up her plate, "Prime rib was good, dad," She told him before walking to the kitchen, dumping her plate and utensils into the dishwasher, and heading outside into the late summer twilight without so much as a goodbye to anyone.

Rude, yes, but that sister of hers had managed to rub her raw by sticking her nose into business that, if there were measurement, would be the furthest possible notch from her own.

She'd barely made it down the steps and into her curb parked car before hearing the door open behind her, slightly rolling her eyes at the idea that someone was trying to come smooth things over. "Helga, wait..." She heard her sister request.

Sighing, she irritably spun around, " _What,_ Olga?"

Her sister slowly inched down the porch steps and onto the sidewalk, hand wringing, before she finally dropped them to her side, "I'm sorry for what I said back there. It was terribly insensitive of me," She apologized, "And...you're right. It's not my place to tell you what to do." Helga silently eyeballed her, waiting for the catch or the _'but'_ followed by her trying to tell her again what to do. Surprisingly that didn't happen though. "I...tend to forget that you _aren't_ my kid sister anymore. You're my _adult_ sister. For some reason though," Olga shook her head, but offered the briefest but sincere smirk, "You're still about sixteen in my mind."

"If only..." Helga muttered, popping her eyebrows once as she glanced off momentarily, "Look, I have no idea what I'm doing, Olga," She admitted before cutting her eyes back to her, and shrugging, "I really don't. I'm winging it as best I can. It's not everyday you find out that the guy you're engaged to is a serial killer."

"No. It's not."

"That being said, she's the _one_ thing that I'm looking forward to this Christmas. I got something _good_ out of...out of a very evil man. And, quite frankly, I'm _still_ having to wrap my head around _calling_ him that." She reached up and scratched the corner of her eyebrow, before choosing to fold her arms across her front, "But, I know I'm not making a mistake keeping her, and I know that this is what's best for _me_ going forward."

Olga nodded, "Okay," She conceded, slowly offering up a warm smile, "You know what you need," She then glanced back towards their parents townhouse, "I'm sure everybody is finished eating by now."

"Probably."

"Would you like to stay for dessert?" Her sister's hopeful eyes shifted back to her own, "It's key lime pie."

Helga inhaled, thinking about how much she did like a good key lime pie, before looking back at her car and re-locking it with the key fob, "I guess a slice wouldn't hurt."

* * *

 **Three days later.  
**

Sid fired of his three remaining rounds, aimed at the target out stationed in the range area, before calling it quits for the evening. Jeremy had been right. He'd forgotten how great squeezing off a few rounds was at clearing his head, and actually allowing him to _think_. And he'd come up with a fairly decent idea while he had been killing targets. He shelled out his clip, and reloaded before holstering his handgun back into his side carrier. Jeremy had yet to wrap up, so he stood there until his friend had emptied out the rest of his clip before deeming it safe to remove his protective eye and ear wear. "I have an idea," Sid shouted at him.

Jeremy turned and gave him a funny look, "What?"

Sid rolled his grey eyes and pointed to his ears. Jeremy sat his gun down on the counter and slide his ear muff down around his neck, "I have an idea."

"About what?"

"What if we use Helga to try and get out of him where Monica is."

Jeremy thinned his eyes in a very skeptical way, turning back to his firearm to pop the clip and shell it out, "This is a game to him man, she's not going to be able to get anything. That's assuming she'd even _want_ to do it," He replied, shoving his newly loaded clip back in before tucking the firearm in his under arm holster.

"Unless you've got a better idea."

He sighed, propping his hands on his hips before running a hand over his hair, "No. I don't." He reluctantly admitted.

"I'm just willing to try anything at this point."

"I know."

* * *

"Do you think it's strange that I'm not putting her up for adoption?" Helga asked, seemingly out of the blue as her and Phoebe munched on their dinner at a local Italian place. A girls night. It was something that had been worming around in the back of her mind since she'd had her little pow wow with Olga. She didn't care, she was just legitimately curious.

One of Phoebe's dark eyebrows lifted over top her equally dark rimmed glasses. "Where's that coming from?" She inquired, twirling her pasta up on her fork.

Her blonde friend shrugged, "Just wondering is all."

"I haven't ever thought about it, I suppose," Phoebe replied truthfully, but she knew Helga better than to think that this was anything out of the blue, "Whose asking?"

"Eh...my sister and I...sort of got into it a few days ago, and...I don't know, she acted like it was the weirdest thing that I was keeping her," She sighed, propping her elbow up on the table, "I mean, I don't really _care_ at the end of the day. I love her more than I hate him, so I'm going to do what makes me happy. But...does everybody think it's strange?"

"I don't think either choice is strange at all," Phoebe shrugged, "Either way, she has a good life."

Helga nodded, twirling up some more pasta, "Yeah. I don't know that I'd ever be able to stand not knowing what she was doing through life though."

"Then screw whatever everybody else thinks." Helga gave her friend a fairly surprised look, not sure that she'd ever even heard her say the word 'screw' as a soft curse word. Phoebe only smirked, "What? I'm right aren't I?"

"Yep."

* * *

 **Two days later.**

She had been very surprised and a little more than uneasy about the voicemail that Sid had left her, asking if she'd be willing to help him out with something. Of course he hadn't spared any details about what that something was, and she was sure that it wasn't unintentional. However, she'd agreed to meet him at a coffee shop she'd be working near to hear out whatever he had to...propose.

He was already waiting at a table when she arrived, waving her over to the corner of the place. Luckily it wasn't busy so there was at least some privacy to the meeting. "Hey Helga," He greeted her as she walked up, motioning for her to sit in the chair across from him.

"Hey," She replied, "What's up?"

"Uh, not much. So...I'm hoping you'll help me... _us,_ " He rephrased, "Out with something..." He trailed off, waiting for her to ask. When she never did he went on, "We want to know if you could meet with Arnold, and try to get him to tell you where Monica is."

"No," She flatly asserted. "I'm not speaking to that man ever again."

Sid blinked with a sigh, "He refuses to talk to us, which is his right but...look," He reached up and began rubbing the back of his neck, "I know that this is a delicate situation for you, and I wouldn't be here asking if I didn't think that it could _maybe_ work. Her parents call me every couple of days, wanting to know if we've found anything. They've accepted that their daughter probably isn't coming home alive, but at this point...she may not ever come home at _all._ You wouldn't have to wear anything, all we would do is tap the phone at the detention center."

Helga looked off as she nodded a bit. She understood it, she did. She just wasn't sure she had the emotional stamina to confront him, hold it together and hope that he was feeling generous with her request, "I'll think about it," Was the only thing she could agree to at that moment, "And I'll give you a call tomorrow, okay?"

Sid nodded, and his eyes remained hopeful, "Thank you."

* * *

 **That Night.**

 _Helga opened her eyes and suddenly she was back in the doorway of a house she'd only ever been in once. But one she would remember for the rest of her life. She walked through the foyer like hallway, hearing the incessant chatter from the swell of people all around. It felt like a replay. A compete replay. And she was half expecting Phoebe to be sitting on the counter in the kitchen again. Her gut reaction was to head in that direction, but something was off. Something was making her hair stand on end._

 _She turned to the right to see Arnold casually sitting on a couch across the room of chattering people who seemed not to even notice him or her. Taylor was sitting to the right of him, Monica to the left, along with a collection of other girls, all with milky white eyes. Dead eyes. He had his arm slung over Monica, leaning in and nuzzling the side of her head possessively while running his hand up between her thighs._

 _She stood there, swallowing hard, not knowing what to do._

 _He noticed her though, staring at him, finally choosing to look up at her with a pair of pitch black, demonic eyes while smirking so devilishly. It sent her breath catching in her throat. "Hey there sunshine," He called to her in a silky smooth tone that sounded absolutely nothing like him, "Why don't you come and have a seat?" He then beckoned, but Helga_ _refused to move. Frozen in her spot. Iced over by those eyes of his. She couldn't get past them. So soulless, without an ounce goodness to be found, "No?" He sat back on the couch and threw his free arm up over the shoulders of Taylor, "But you belong here. Just like they do."_

 _Helga took a tiny step backwards, finally breaking her gaze with him to glance away to the hallway. She had to get away from him. A futile motion that made him laugh._

 _That was it for her. Finally finding the courage to move, she took off towards the hallway, catching him rising from the couch out of the corner of her eye. She kept running, and running but the hallway seemed to be a never ending loop of locked doors, and no matter how fast she went, he seemed to always be right behind her, calmly walking. Panicked, she gave up on there ever being an end and darted into the first room she saw open, which happened to be a bathroom._

 _Another place she'd never forget about. The place where it all began._

 _Stumbling into the room, she suddenly caught her reflection in the mirror, horrified by her own eyes starting to cloud over with white_ _._ _Her sharp blue orbs, fading so fast. "No…" She squeaked as she reached up to touch her cheek. Arnold stepped into the doorway, slowly rubbing his hands together, "Come on now, sweetheart," She jumped and spun around to face him. He tilted his head, staring hungrily at her with those pitch black eyes, "You can't get away from me," He walked up to her and she backed away until she collided with the vanity, and had nowhere else to go, "You'll_ _ **never**_ _get away from me," He smirked, looking down at her as he brought his hand up and slowly wrapped it around her throat, despite her futile attempt to push him away. He was just too strong, "I'm a part of you now."_

Helga jumped awake on the couch, groggily sitting up and trying to orient herself. She blinked a few times, seeing the TV still on, her dogs, now awake and curled up on the couch with her. That was the first nightmare she'd had in probably six months. She hardly dreamed, much less had night terrors of that caliber. She supposed that's what she got for harboring on the thought of seeing him again right before bed. It had wrapped up about ever other nightmarish thought she'd had to put on quite a production in her mind.

* * *

 **Next Morning.**

Helga sat at her kitchen counter, drinking her cup of coffee and munching on a piece of avocado toast. Bland, and healthy. A great combination for her at the moment. She was tired, but she'd felt worse. But she had at least woken up, knowing the answer she had for Sid. She realized that, as much as she didn't desire to face Arnold ever again, if there was even an ounce of a chance that she could help Monica's family bring their daughter home, she'd be selfish not agree to it. She may have been suffering with her own form of severe pain, but they were suffering in a whole different and possibly more excruciating way too.

She couldn't even begin to imagine.

With that in mind, she picked up her phone to let Sid know she would agree to it.

* * *

 **One week later.**

"Nothing special, just...try to get him talking. Leave whenever you're ready. I just...I really appreciate you doing this...and so do her parents," Sid told Helga right inside the front doors of the detention center.

"I know," She nodded, "I'll try..." Was the best she could promise.

"Stall eight," He told her, pointing through the series of guarded doors that she was indeed familiar with. Her heart was already beating through her chest with anxiety. It got louder, and louder the closer she neared the booth, really hammering her ears, almost painfully.

When she finally seated herself, she felt light headed. She absolutely didn't want to be there. She'd never been more sure of that. A feeling that became even more unbearable the longer she sat. And then...and then she saw him walking up, very disheveled, looking like he'd lost about fifteen-pounds, but his dimmed eyes seemed to spark to life when he saw her.

It made her sick.

Arnold hurriedly took his seat, snatching the phone from the hook, eagerly watching her slowly unhook her own.

" _Jesus!_ Baby, you have _no_ idea how glad I am to see you. It's—it's just been a complete nightmare..."

Helga found herself kind of zoning out, desperately trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but...it was becoming almost impossible. She watched him sitting there, babbling away, not hearing a word he was really saying because of the anger, and the hurt beginning to surge through her veins. Closing her eyes, she looked away. How could he sit there and pretend nothing was wrong? How could he even believe she was there for _him?_

 _How?_

"Helga..."

The blonde young woman snapped away from the vortex of thoughts that she had been so abruptly sucked into, realizing that she still had the worn, corded phone receiver pressed to her ear. Her clouded blue, and grimly bloodshot eyes shifted up from the nicked, pale grey counter top she'd been aimlessly staring at, back to the bullet proof plexiglass, back to a creased orange jump suit being worn by...her whole _life_. Her mouth was so dry, too dry to audibly form any sort of reply to him right a way, because she was desperately trying to swallow down the sickness infested inside of her.

Monsters were amongst us. Monsters were handsome. Monsters were successful. Monsters had _gorgeous_ eyes.

Monsters had _families..._

...Families that had no other _purpose_ to them, but to provide the _perfect_ camouflage.

As if on cue, she felt a little kick from her unborn child, innocently reminding the tears that were piling up behind her swollen lids of the reason why they were there. It was finally enough to spur them into tumbling over her rims and spilling onto her cheeks in blotted streaks of mascara and heart brokenness. "I sat on that back patio every morning..." She began in a raspy voice, her broken soul being drowned with an unimaginable and unbridled level of disgust she'd never thought possible, having to call upon every fiber of her collective to stop from splintering apart right there, "And they were there the entire _time_."

His face was ghostly pale with hollowed out eyes that for the first time ever, she couldn't bring herself to look directly in as he whispered, "...you have to believe me. I didn't _do_ this."

"What would have happened to me if we'd made it to Mexico?" She blurted out, going completely off script. "What would have happened to me if you'd never gotten caught?" Finally steeling her nerves enough to ask a question that had left her in a cold sweat upon many a thought, "Would I have disappeared in the desert? Would I have disappeared into a freezer or into those fucking woods?"

"I didn't do—"

"—did you think you could just…marry me, we'd play house and no one would ever suspect the good family man, the good doctor of being this...this monster?!"

"I'm not a monster!" Arnold snapped back.

"You _are_ a monster! Look at the lives you've destroyed!" He steadfastly shook his head, unwilling to yield to her accusations and it was frustrating her to no ends. She couldn't stand a liar. And while she had gone there for one reason, and one reason only, she was bound and determined to stare him down and make him admit to her that he was the devil incarnate while she was at it.

"Deep down Helga…deep _down_ , you k _now_ I'm not capable of these things. You _know_ me."

"No, I don't! I _don't_ know you! Nobody _knew_ who you were! Admit that. Stop playing everybody for fools. You aren't as _smart_ as you think you are."

" _Helga!_ " He bellowed, in a voice much deeper than normal, causing her to jump, "I _didn't_ kill those girls."

"So this is all an unbelievable coincidence huh? Coincidence that you wanted _that_ particular house the most, of all the ones we looked at? Coincidence that you were the one that wanted to expand that patio first? Coincidence that your ex-girlfriend was up underneath it? Coincidence that a nurse on your floor is _still_ missing. Coincidence that a dead girl was found in our storage unit? Coincidence enough that lots of their missing jewelry was found in our garage? Do you _want_ me to go on?" Helga glowered at him, giving him a look that suggested that she was deeply offended that he would even _think_ she were that stupid. " _You_ murdered those girls. And...and.." She couldn't even bring herself to say what else he'd done to them, "They each were somebody's _child_...somebody's daughter. And God I was just..."

She felt so fucking sick and...contaminated by him.

"I know how bad it looks, Jesus _Christ_ do I _know_ …but you need to believe me here. If ever in your _life,_ I needed you to believe me, it's _right now_ , honey. It's right fucking _now._ Please!"

She sniffed, looking away and shaking her head, knowing she needed to get back on track. He couldn't take control of the conversation, "You need to tell them where Monica is…"

He blinked for a moment, "I can't do that. I wish I could, but I _can't._ "

"Arnold…" She trailed off in a much softer voice, eyes closing as she took a break, "Please…if you have any compassion _whatsoever_ , tell me where she is…" She opened her eyes and stared at him, "Her family is hurting. No matter what you did…the not knowing where she is...is much worse for them."

"Helga... _I_ can't help them."

"For Christ's _sake_ _..._ where is she?!"

Her former lover's expression slowly shifted into that of a slight glare through the plexiglass, jaw muscles slowly flexing in and out, "That's why you're here isn't it?" He spoke in a low voice, "You...didn't come here for me. They convinced you to come here didn't they? To try to get information out of me. Have they got your wired up? Are these phones tapped?" His voice got increasingly more aggravated sounding, as his deep green eyes stared though her, cutting her to the bone, "I don't have anything to tell them."

Helga inhaled deeply, bringing her shaky hand to rest, knuckle side on her mouth,"God, you're making me so sick." She swallowed hard, not wanting to be the one to puke right there on the tile floor in a visitation room. The possibility of staying there any longer was over. She couldn't do it. Steeling herself, she finally took a calming breath, wiping away a few left over tears, "I'm-I'm out of here…I hope they fucking fry you."

Arnold's face collapsed into panic and he reached his hand out and placed his palm against the glass, "No. No, no…please," He tried in a very desperate voice, "Please don't do this. Please don't leave me. Just trust me here, please? Please! I-I love you, _so_ much. Sweetheart, you are my entire _world_ , and…"

"Don't you dare, don't you fucking _dare_ , you sick bastard," She began shaking her head, fighting back a second onslaught of tears threatening her already very bloodshot eyes.

But he _didn't_ stop there, possibly knowing how deeply that he was hurting her, and maybe it was all part of his twisted game. His strained, yet somehow desperate eyes fell to her ever expanding midsection, before jumping back to her tear stained face, "Helga...please...just, please… we're supposed to be married now an—and we're having a baby…that we tried _very_ hard for. Will you think about that for a minute. How could a monster possibly _want_ all that?"

And it finally succeeded in snapping her sorrow. Her eyes darkening, and then narrowing into a pair of thin blue slits. Before she could even stop herself, she was coming up out of her chair, leaning across the counter, with her left index finger stabbing out at him through the plexiglass, "She will never, _ever_ even know you fucking exist, much less know the type of _hell_ you've rained down on this community," She hissed at him in a deadly tone, having been completely overcome with the maternal instinct to protect her child at _all_ costs. And in that circumstance, from it's own father. She inhaled sharply, her blazing blue eyes boring a hole through him, making sure that he understood that that was _it_ for him. "You were just some random at a party. That's all she'll ever know."

He realized then that she _wasn't_ kidding. She really was going to walk right out of those cool grey security doors, and he'd never lay eyes on her again. Her mind was made up. She didn't believe him. And she watched as his eyes shifted from their worn down, dulled green to a flashing, yet desperate shade of indignation.

His jaw was setting hard as his fist grew twitchier and twitchier. If she was going to have an outburst at him, he wasn't holding back either. Quite suddenly he slammed his palm into the plexiglass and angrily yelled, "Fine!" and slammed his hand once again, causing her to jump, "Get the fuck out of here then! You're _useless_ to me. And you want to know why? Because all you ever _were_ to me was a piece of ass," He began pointing at her, "A piece of fantastic _fucking_ ass." He tapped said finger on the glass after every vile word that forked through his teeth, "And then a support system for school, a place to live and…then a lawyer. _Oh,_ and now you're none of that! So here you go: I faked _everything_ to get what I wanted. So, turn around, walk your ass out of those doors…" He mimicked legs walking with two fingers, "…and stop wasting my time with your pitiful search for answers." He then stood up, giving her one last hardened look, "Have a nice fucking life Helga." And with that final farewell, he dropped the phone, got up and walked away.

"I'm sorry Sid," Helga whispered before she hung up the phone, unable to hold back the onset of tears rushing her lids, feeling them tumble in a great wave once more. She was so angry, and frustrated and…so, very heartbroken it was making her absolutely knotted with sickness. Pushing away from the booth, she barely registered her exit from that place, thankful that Sid had had the common sense not to bother her. All she knew was that she had to get away from Arnold. As far away as possible.

As far away from _everything_ as possible.

The quickest escape she could make was to her parents cabin, and it would have to do.

* * *

She drove home, packing as quickly as she could for at least a few days stay, the entire time wondering if there was a way to burn the place down and make it appear an accident.

Too much work though.

She tossed her bags and her dogs into the car and went on her way. About a mile from the interstate, she figured she needed to give her parents a ring to let them know she would be up there. Mostly so they wouldn't show up. She grabbed her phone from the cup holder and dialed their home line, hearing it ring all of twice before her mother picked up, "Hey…um, I'm just letting you and dad know that I'm going to the cabin for a few days…No…I'm fine I…" She slowed to stop at the traffic light to merge onto the interstate, "…I had a rough day and I just feel like getting out of town for a bit. I will…okay. Bye…" She ended the call and dropped her phone back into the cup holder.

Beside her, Jack and Rory sat the the passengers seat, excitedly looking out the window, none-the-wiser to their mother's shattered spirit, or the fact that the big guy who had been their dad and who had thrown all those balls around the yard for them, was never coming back. They were just excited about their car ride.

It was something to envy. Especially right then.

When the light turned green, before taking her foot off the brake, she reached over a popped her shifter into sport mode, allowing her car to really move in hopes that the adrenaline would make her feel better.

At least make her forget for a little while.

She floored it, chirping her tires onto the on-ramp and had hit ninety by the time she hit the interstate.

* * *

 **Two Days Later.**

Using Helga had been a bust. Arnold was most definitely playing the long game, with the threat of death not seeming to phase him one bit. Sid had to assume that it was the thirst for power. He got off on the power of holding Monica's continued absence over their heads. It was sick. It was twisted. And there was nothing they could do about it.

"Hey losers," Haley walked up to their conjoined desks.

"Hey Haley," They both sort of murmured, flipping through old files.

"Wow...I finally broke you guys," She looked between them very bemusedly.

Jeremy was the first to glance up, giving her a crooked smile, "Snapped us like twigs."

"For the record, you called yourself a twig, not me," She chortled, "Lab results that Bill sent out are in," She dropped the folder down in the middle of their desks, "You're welcome."

Jeremy scooted it to his side first, flipping it open and quickly reading, feeling Sid's eager eyes bearing down on him. "It's not a match..." He looked up at his partner before sliding it over for him to see.

Sid read it for himself, and while discouraging, but not earth shattering. A prostitute had a random semen stain on her clothing that wasn't their perps. He couldn't say it was shocked or anything, "So...she _was_ a working girl...what was on her shirt was probably from another John of hers," He snapped it shut and tossed it back on the desk and shrugged, "Doesn't help anything..."

"But doesn't change anything either."

* * *

 **Four Days Later.**

Helga honestly had had a wonderful few days away in the mountains. The fresh air alone did wonders for her spirit. She'd slept, worked, taken her dogs on some great walks, though nothing to the extent that she was used to, and just generally enjoyed the serenity of it all.

But, like most vacation, they ended more quickly than one ever wanted. And though she'd been able to get away with having her two employees cover a lot of her tasks, her presence was once again required in Hillwood. And money wasn't going to make itself.

So back home she went.

And as she pulled off on the Hillwood exit, it was just in time for her gaslight to flip on. Driving sporty ate through gas, that was for sure. Luckily there were several gas station in throwing distance and she simply pulled off on the first one to the right. She was ready to be home, as odd as they felt to her, but she would be even more aggravated if she left it on empty for the next time she went out.

Annoying.

She half rolled the window so her mutts could get some air before popping the cover and getting out to fill it up. With everything pumping away, she leaned against her car, kind of zoned out as she waited to hear the click. "Helga?" Hearing her name jolted her back from her thoughts. Glancing between the pumps she saw a familiar man putting away the nozzle on the other side of the pump beside hers.

"Brian," She realized, "Hey, how are you?" She probably hadn't seen him in four years or more. He still looked about the same though. Most everybody she used to know did. The dirty blonde guy walked over to her, offering her a cheerful smile.

"Good, how about yourself?"

"Could be better," She shrugged, knowing that he would know everything going on. She had not forgotten Jeremy's mention of him being an employee of Hillwood's finest.

"Yeah it's...wild what's been going on," He admitted, right as her two dogs began whining through the window crack, both their head poking out like a pair of turtles. "Look at you guys," Brian's eyes lit up and he reached over tickled the top of their snouts, "You smell my two puppers?"

"Dogs know dog people," Helga commented, as she watched him pet them.

"Truth," He replied, withdrawing his hand, and pocketing it, "Well hey, I don't want to keep you or anything, but, we should catch up sometime or something. I still have the same number."

"Uh, yeah. Let's grab a coffee sometime." She had no _real_ desire to grab a coffee with him, but she assumed he was being as polite as she was. Or hope so anyway, "I seem to be running into everybody from school these days."

"Hillwood can be small that way, even as much as it's grown," Brian marveled before giving her one last wave, "Well, talk to you later then."

* * *

 **Two Weeks Later.**

Helga had just sat back down on her couch, a plate full of sliced apples—because she _literally_ couldn't eat enough to even put a dent in her craving those days—when her doorbell rang. She felt her blood gel a bit in her veins, knowing that it couldn't have been anything good. With an aggravated huff, she pulled herself back off of the couch, muttering, "Let's get this over with..." as she walked to the front door.

Opening it up she found...

"Jeremy," She said, un-surprised, eyes darting around him and out into her driveway, fully expecting to see Sid as well, but seeing nothing but his lone pickup truck. Which was a little odd. He'd never showed up solo. "Um…what are you doing here?"

"I uh…was passing through," He thumbed over his shoulder, which immediately elicited an extremely skeptical semi-glare out of her, "Which is the truth. My mom lives about ten miles past here now since she…got remarried," He then sighed, "We haven't talked to you since before you saw Arnold so…I just wanted to check up on you."

"I would have called, if I wanted to."

Jeremy looked off to the side, licking his lips as he nodded, "You're right," He admitted, looking back at her, "This was stupid of me so…I'll be going then," He started backing away, turning and striding back across her front porch.

Helga sighed, suddenly feeling extremely bad for being such an inhospitable _jerk_. Especially when there had never been _any_ good reason for her to be so hateful towards him, or continue to be so. It's wasn't like he'd ever done anything to her to deserve it, "Jay…wait." Her former flame stopped and peered back over his shoulder at her. "I'm sorry it's just…it's usually not a good thing when somebody shows up at my house these days," She tried on a tiny smile. Felt awkward, but whatever.

"I can't blame you."

"And I'm as well as to be expected. To answer you question."

Jeremy turned and nodded, "That's good. I'll be sure to let Sid know. He's been concerned but hasn't wanted to bother you."

Helga too nodded, "Do you…want to come in?"

"Do you want me to come in?"

"Not particularly," She shrugged, "I wasn't expecting any guests, but you spent the time stopping."

Jeremy shrugged, "Well, sure then," She then gestured towards her open doorway, figuring she'd probably regret it later, but doing a fantastic job at hiding it on her face.

He followed her into the house, and as they were walking down the foyer she asked, "Want anything to drink?"

"What have you got?"

She walked into the kitchen doorway, "Water, some orange juice I think and…some IPA's left over from Arnold if you're into that sort of thing," She commented as she moved to the fridge, leaving him on the other side of the island.

Jeremy exhaled, a tiny smirk pulling at his mouth, "Hell, give me the beer,"

Helga grabbed one of the bottles from the fridge, fishing for the bottle opener in the nearby drawer to pop the top on it before handing it off to him. "Feel free to take them all with you, if you want."

"I might take you up on that," He agreed, upturning the bottle for a good hard swig. He then proceeded to follower her out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he saw two small dogs standing, staring through the back glass before they both began excessively scratching, and a movie paused on the television. She went to let them in before there nails could do untold amounts of damage to the sliding door.

And the barking ensued.

They both circled and weaved around her, growling and barking at him with their skinny little tails tucked firmly between their little legs. Jeremy chuckled. How brave small dogs could act considering how scared they really were. Quite a show, indeed. "Quiet you two!" Helga fussed at them. To no avail. "Crimeny, you act like you haven't see him before."

"They've seen me, but haven't met me,"

The dark headed stranger squatted down and held out his hand, tutting at them before cooing, "Hey guys. Come here," The two beagles skittishly approached him, giving his hand a cautionary sniff and a lick before running back to Helga.

"See. He's not bothering anybody. Now go get in your chair," She shooed them into hopping up in an old cushioned corner chair that was _clearly_ theirs to relax in, judging by the old blanket and raw hide chews.

Helga herself reclaimed her corner spot on the nearby couch where she'd been curled up to begin with, motioning for her guest to sit, "Wherever." He choose the opposite side of the sofa.

"What are you watching?"

"The aviator."

"Ah, good movie."

"Yep," She glanced over at him, watching his eyes look around the room, studying his face, something she hadn't done since they were together, and noticing a pretty important feature of his missing, "No toothpick huh? Smoking again?"

At that, Jeremy's eyes cut back to hers, and a small smile darted back to his awaiting lips, "Sometimes," He willingly admitted.

"How's your mom these days?" Helga found herself wondering out loud. Partly to prevent an awkward silence between the two, but also in a genuine interest in knowing since she had been brought up. She'd actually really liked his mother.

"Still at Boeing and…got married last year." He watched his ex cast him a curious and skeptical glance that he fully expected and completely understood. She knew _all_ about his mother, and apparently hadn't forgotten a bit of it either, "His name is Val and he's retired military and…the best one she's ever brought home. I mean that. He's a good guy."

Helga softly chuckled at that. Lisa Kirk. A wonderfully kind and warm woman, who, though _incredibly_ intelligent, suffered from a crippling taste in _terrible_ men. And when Jeremy's father, an in-and-out of jail lowlife, had finally earned himself the long stent by shooting a man point blank in the face while trying to rob a gas station, she'd taken Jay and his older half-sister and moved back across the country to where she'd grown up.

Though he never talked about it _being_ the reason, she'd always kind of figured that his desire to go into law enforcement had been his own way of proving that he would never be his dad, "I'm happy to hear that," And she actually was. That woman deserved some happiness.

"Yeah," Jeremy agreed, looking very relieved himself, "Me too."

A short little patch of silence rained over the pair for a moment, giving Helga the realization that she had a golden opportunity sitting in front of her. Or to the side of her rather. It was an opportunity to set some things right that had been in tattered ruins for far too long, and now that the dust had begun to settle, she could see everything more clearly, "Jay I uh…I owe you an apology for…how I've treated you since this whole mess started."

He took a bubbling swig from the beer, not appearing all that surprised by it, "I expected it, I guess," He replied before giving her a considering glance, and a shrug, "I can see how it probably felt like I was out to get you, when I went after Arnold. Mostly I think because…we never cleared the air on what happened between us."

"No we didn't," Helga softly agreed, looking down at her lap as she propped her elbow up on the arm of the couch. "Because I never tried to say sorry or…offer you any sort of explanation," She admitted with shrug of her shoulders while tilting her head towards him, "Honestly, I don't have any good reason why either. Other than…just being too proud to accept responsibility."

Jeremy then sighed, and ran his hand through his wavy black hair, "I've found myself thinking a lot about that again recently. Thinking about how if…something had been different. If I'd been different in some way. Would it have happened? Would all of this," He gestured his hand in a half circle, "Have been _ours_ instead?" It was a very martyr like complex for him to take, and it saddened her because she understood what he was _really_ trying to say. He wondered, aloud, if he could have spared her the nightmare she was currently living in.

For her, the answer for would always be no.

With that question at the very forefront of her mind, she found herself subconsciously biting her lip in an effort to put together exactly how to say everything she wanted to. Ultimately she decided that there wasn't any special way to go about it other than, straight to how she felt, "There's nothing you could have changed, Jay. Or anything you did wrong. I think we had…run our course and…I think neither of us could fully see it yet," She softly concluded. "We both wanted different things in life and eventually…I think…the love faded into a love of familiarness. I think I…sort of saw it, but…just…I stayed in denial about it…" She trailed off, feeling that that was the most sincere answer the had for him. Yet she wondered if time had made her remember it that way. She'd always felt that he'd been in the same boat as her, but she did wonder if that street had been more one way than she'd assumed. None-the-less, it still bothered her to hear that he had walked around, thinking he could have changed himself to have made her happy.

He could be so unreadable too. Even when they were together. Nothing had changed. And nothing about his demeanor suggested whether or not he agreed or disagreed with her summary. He only offered a simple nod, before looking down and then away for a bit, swallowing, "You remember…the night that every thing happened I told you…not to come home?"

"Yeah," She doubted she'd ever forget that night, but she wondered where he was taking the conversation, "I do."

"It wasn't because I didn't want to see you again. Far from it. It was because I would have begged you not to leave me…and for us to…somehow work it out."

"For a brief moment, I _wanted_ to go after you that night, but…" Helga admitted, suddenly very vividly remembering how upset she'd been over how everything had gone down, how'd she holed up in Arnold's room, fighting with herself about _what_ to do. It having been entirely her fault for trying to have her cake and eat it too, of course. But she'd realized in the parking garage, no matter how angry she'd been at Arnold, and how much she didn't want to see him for a little while, or how much she hated getting sucked into his web…she was going to go right back to him. There had been no _point_ in even _trying_ to apologize in that moment, "My words would have meant nothing to you and...my mind was made up," She just left it at that.

"For awhile I wished that you had, but…I'm now glad that you didn't." He admitted, taking a sip of beer, before raising his eyebrows high for a moment, "What you did, closed me off emotionally for… _awhile_ , and…I had a hard time trusting other girls I've dated since. I think it probably would have been worse had you come after me."

On the few occasions that she'd spoken to Phoebe about her worry over possibly never ever being able to fully trust Arnold, simply because they had cheated with each other, she'd never once thought about the physiological damage she'd done to Jeremy. And there she sat, getting a taste of her own medicine, but it a far nastier dosage than ever imaginable, "I did a number on you...and then he turns around a does a number on me. I guess in the end I had this coming," She sadly remarked, catching his eyes before glancing away.

Jeremy sat his beer down on the coffee table and turned towards her, eyebrows creased tightly in concern, "Nobody deserves what he did to you and everybody else," He disagreed, shaking his head.

Helga only offered a limp shrug in return, "Him being a serial killer aside. He was still running around with another woman...doing exactly what I did to you. That I should have expected."

Her ex licked his lips and very subtly nodded before quietly exhaling, "It gets better as time goes on," He tried, "You learn to focus your energy into other things. The hate will pass, the hurt will dull, you'll...move past it all, eventually." He reassured as he reached up and ran his hand through his thick dark hair.

"Yeah," She nodded, "I'm hoping so."

"Helga I...want you to know that...I'm here for you if you ever need me," His deep chocolate eyes turned back onto hers, "I'm not trying to...force a friendship in anyway because...I don't know if you really want that and...I'm not sure I want it either myself but...I'm here," He assured her, before quickly adding, "And so is Sid. He's a the world's biggest worrier you know," He smirked slightly, attempting to be funny at his partners expense, "I imagine you are probably getting told that a lot so...sorry if so."

The blonde across the couch from him let a small, but genuine smile slip to her lips, "I am, but...it's always nice to have the option to vent to different people."

"Very true," Jeremy reached over and reclaimed his beer, and downed what remained before sitting it back down, "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

Helga pointed off to the hallway, "First door on the left."

Nodding, Jeremy rose from his seat, skipped down to said door and ducked into the bathroom. While he was standing at the toilet, taking a piss, he glanced over to the sink, a very familiar wash rag draped through the looped wall holder catching his interest. He knew where he'd seen it before. It was the same type and color as the one pulled from Monica's car. He finished his business, washed his hands, and dried them off with the curious item before folding it and sticking it into his back pocket.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, do you guys think Arnold snapped at her out of hurt or do you think he realized she was on to him and just showed his true colors? And what's Jeremy up to with stealing that wash rag?


End file.
